


Absolution

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No wives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burnt out by the pressures of work and fame, Ryan left his old life behind to start a new one, away from the spotlight and everyone he loved. Years later, with the appearance of a simple envelope through the mail, that old life comes knocking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story I started writing for NaNo a few years back. I'm posting it now in the hope that feedback will kick my butt into finishing it (it's no good to anyone languishing in my WIP folder). It's an alternate reality in as much as there are no wives or kids except for Greg's wife, Jen, and is basically a Colin/Ryan fic (surprise surprise XD), but there will be various other pairings along the way. I'll tag for those as and when they come up.
> 
> Note - When I started writing this, Drew was engaged to Nicole Jaracz. I realize that this is no longer the case, but, for the purposes of this story, let's pretend that they didn't split up. ;)
> 
> This is all a figment of my imagination. No offense intended to those portrayed herein.

The plain envelope had looked innocuous enough, lying amongst the small selection of other mail items, although, on closer inspection, it bore the marks of having been redirected a number of times to various different addresses. That had made Ryan pause. Opening it had sent his mind into instant turmoil. 

He sat at the kitchen counter, a rapidly cooling cup of coffee at his elbow, and stared at the embossed card in his hand, running a thumb over the names proudly displayed in gold.

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Drew Allison Carey and Nicole Kristen Jaracz at 2.30pm on Saturday July 7th at Vibiana, 214 S Main Street, Los Angeles, California.  
RSVP_

Ryan hadn’t even known that Drew was engaged. He looked across at the calendar on the wall, illuminated in bright stripes from the sun shining through the blinds at the window. The wedding was next weekend, only five days away… the envelope must have been circulating through the US mail system for quite a while. Five days. He weighed up his options in his mind. It was short notice but he’d probably be able to make it. The question was, should he?

He took a sip of coffee and looked back down at the card, the golden words glinting up at him. A few years ago, it would have been a no-brainer; he wouldn’t have missed this wedding for the world. But everything was different now. Going back would reopen painful wounds, wounds that he’d buried deep inside but which had never healed. Going back would mean facing Colin.

The mere thought of the man who had once been his best friend sent a wave of pain crashing over Ryan, making his hand clench around the cup. He knew he’d destroyed part of himself on that fateful night. But that was another lifetime. He had a new life now, and time meant nothing here. Five years might as well be five decades. If he went back to that world, would it claim the rest of him?

Running a hand through his beard, Ryan glanced up at the clock and was jogged from his reverie. He needed to go or he’d be late. He finished his coffee in two gulps and stood up, tossing the card back onto the counter where it flipped over. It was only then that he saw the writing on the back: Drew’s handwriting.

_I don’t know if this will reach you but I had to try. Miss you, buddy._

Ryan’s heart constricted again. He forced his gaze away and walked to the door, shoving his feet into boots and donning a thick, padded coat. 

The ocean breeze made its presence felt as soon as he opened the door, reviving him far more successfully than any amount of morning caffeine. It whipped about him as he stepped out into the sunshine, shutting the door behind him. He locked the door more out of habit than necessity—crime wasn’t really an issue on the island. But, as the saying goes, old habits die hard, a tiny fragment of his previous life that had remained lodged in his psyche.

The salty air was brisk, stinging the exposed parts of his face, but the boardwalk was bathed in sunshine. Ryan felt the warmth seep through the soles of his boots as he walked, enjoying, as always, the stunning natural beauty that lay on his doorstep. The ocean was calm and still, reflecting the landscape surrounding it and the majestic Alaskan mountains in the distance. A perfect day. 

Still, Drew’s words nudged at his consciousness, seeking attention. Drew had been a good friend—he was a good friend. He had always been there for Ryan, through thick and thin, never taking sides. He was one of the few who Ryan had kept in contact with… for a while anyway. He’d moved around so much in the first year that it was easy to lose touch. Perhaps part of him had wanted to. Hearing from old friends kept the past alive.

And yet Drew had reached out again. He wanted Ryan there. There had been a time when Ryan had thought his friend wouldn’t live beyond a few more years, let alone settle down. But Drew’s weak heart was also a very big heart. He, more than anyone, deserved to find happiness. And Ryan owed it to him to be there.

“Lee, you’re late!”

Ryan looked up. Even now, it still took him a fraction of a second too long to respond to the middle name that he’d replaced his original with several years ago. The man who had called was grinning up at him from the deck of a sleek boat, a long length of rope in hand; one of his new friends.

“I overslept,” Ryan replied easily, jumping down with practised ease onto the deck beside him. “How many do we have, Scott?”

“Seven so far. Although one of those might not survive the trip,” Scott added with quiet laughter. 

Ryan looked over his head to the group beyond and was forced to agree; the old man hardly looked fit enough to walk, let alone cast a line. Beyond the milling crowd, Ryan spotted his boss going into the wheelhouse. Leaving Scott to it, Ryan headed in that direction, figuring he may as well ask.

“Hey, Eddie!”

Eddie was older than Ryan by several years. His jet black hair was already graying in places, his wrinkles growing, but he lived for the ocean and Ryan had no doubt that he’d keep doing the job till the day he died.

“Lee,” Eddie responded, grabbing a chart from the wall.

“I’ve just got an invitation to a wedding…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…this weekend.”

That got Eddie’s attention; at least Ryan got direct eye contact. “This weekend? That’s short notice, isn’t it?”

Ryan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like it got lost in the mail.”

Eddie snorted mirthlessly. “Yeah, everything gets lost on its way here. Well, god knows you’re owed vacation time so if you want to go…”

“I’m not sure that I do,” Ryan muttered, sinking into one of the tattered seats.

“That’s between you and your therapist,” Eddie said, holding his hands up with a rumble of laughter. “But I’m sure I can get Tony to cover if you decide you want to take a week or two.”

“Thanks.”

“Now take her out so we can get these people some big ol’ fish.”

 

The sun was still high in the sky when Ryan returned home that evening; it was something he’d grown accustomed to over the summer months. He’d never needed much sleep anyway, so longer hours of daylight were only an added bonus.

He prepared a salad for dinner and sat out on the deck to eat, watching the remaining boats come in. It was a simple yet blissful existence. But the hours out on the ocean had given him time to reach a decision, and he was now mentally preparing himself for the difficult task ahead. For a start, it would be a three day journey at least, although, thankfully, the summer made that part easier; he’d only have to worry about car rental and fuel. After that, things would become more complicated.

He’d already decided to stay somewhere low-key, away from the main event. That way, he might be able to slip in under the radar and not cause a fuss; there was always a chance, albeit not much of one. He didn’t doubt for a second that the others would be there for Drew’s big day. The knot in his stomach tightened at the thought of facing them... of facing _him_.

Ryan pushed his unfinished dinner away and grabbed his beer. He watched the dark shapes of several birds flying overhead, his mind slinking back to prod at the past, stirring the memories he’d locked away five years ago.

_Ryan sat in an old recliner in the back yard, gazing unseeing at the countless stars blinking above. A bottle sat idly in his hand, the contents half-gone. He drank more out of habit than need, although it kept his brain on the right side of inebriation, dimming his senses. The darkness that had skulked around his peripheral vision for several years was now consuming him from the inside out._

_Colin had sensed that something was wrong and had asked several times, his eyes projecting love and concern, but Ryan had gotten too good at hiding it. He had always managed to reassure Colin that it was nothing more than tiredness from work and wedding preparations, and Colin was so busy himself that he didn’t question it._

_Now, sitting under the half moon of a warm spring evening, three weeks before the big day, everything seemed to crumble away, leaving him naked in his despair. He couldn’t do this anymore. Any of it. He was lying to himself and everyone he loved. He had to get out. Right now._

_A fiery determination lighting his eyes, Ryan jumped and strode towards the dark house, tossing the bottle onto the grass where it softly glugged out the remaining liquid._

_It didn’t take long to pack, but the note for Colin proved more difficult. He went through several drafts, screwing up and discarding various attempts before settling on just a few lines. Lastly, he pulled off his engagement ring with shaking fingers. Colin had presented it to him with a wide smile, insisting that men deserved promise rings as well, to show the world that they were taken. Ryan had to suppress an almost overwhelming urge to keep it and never let go. But it had to be a clean break, and leaving it behind was probably the only thing that would convince Colin of his intent._

_Placing it next to the note, he grabbed his bag and walked away, leaving everything he’d ever known—everything he’d ever loved—behind._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time - my apologies - but it was a natural break. The next one will be longer. :)

Ryan was up with the sun the following morning, having chased sleep for several long hours without success. He gathered together everything he needed for the trip and packed it in a duffel bag, snatching some toast to eat on his way to catch the morning ferry.

He didn’t have the dawn to himself. The town, like many others in the region, was a fishing hub and many were out readying their boats for the morning catch, some already drifting out on the tide towards the wide horizon. Soon the summer tourists would rise and slowly fill the cafes around the harbor, cameras always on hand to catch the perfect image for their holiday scrapbooks.

The ferry wasn’t due in for a little while, so Ryan sat on the docks to wait, his long legs dangling over the gently swelling water. With his worn jeans, scraggly beard and cap, he looked every inch the fisherman. He doubted that even his mother would recognize him like this, but he still extracted a pair of dark sunglasses from his jacket pocket and put them on.

Finally he spotted the ferry on the horizon. He watched the small black dot draw closer and take shape until it filled his vision, its horn blaring out across the island to announce its arrival and the beginning of his journey. By the time it had docked, a small crowd had gathered, suitcases straining with the extra weight of souvenirs clutched tightly. Ryan thought he recognized a few people from various boat trips and he surreptitiously angled himself away from them. The last thing he needed was to get drawn into a conversation that would only invite curiosity.

The ferry was only moderately full, which was pretty usual for the first of the day. The later crossings were typically more crowded, which was one of the reasons why Ryan had opted to go early. He kept his head down as the passengers slowly disembarked and was one of the first onboard once the gangway was clear, positioning himself in a fairly secluded spot near the bow, his duffel bag at his feet. The familiar movement of the ocean buffeting the boat was soothing, as was the crisp morning breeze with its salty sting. It felt like home now, a home he would be returning to whatever the next few days might bring.

The journey to the mainland passed in no time at all, as they always do when you’re not overly keen to reach your destination, and soon the coastline filled the horizon. Ryan said a silent goodbye to the ocean and filed off the ferry along with everyone else, towards the much larger crowd waiting to board. Among them was a man wearing a T shirt that had ‘ _Alaska_ ’ in large letters at the top, and then, underneath a group of cartoon polar bears, ‘ _Watch Out For Ice Holes_.' Ryan couldn’t suppress the memory that sprang to the surface of his mind, with the echoes of voices and laughter from so long ago. It felt like a sign, if he needed one, that he was stepping off the boat and back into his old life, and a large part of him wanted to turn right around again. But Drew’s heartfelt words had stayed with him and, by holding onto those, he was able to walk right off the gangway towards the nearest car rental place.

 

It took three and a half days to reach L.A., the air warming steadily as he drove further south. Of course, by plane he could have reached the city in a matter of hours, but he wasn’t going to subject himself to that on top of everything else. Besides, he needed those days to mentally prepare himself for whatever might happen.

He’d already planned the route out—it had been a more useful pursuit than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling—and he knew exactly where he needed to stop for fuel, food, and rest. It had taken him a little while to adjust to being behind the wheel of a car, asphalt beneath him rather than water, but he soon remembered the joy of being on the open road. Canadian wilderness slowly gave way to buildings and houses, villages then towns, and then he was across the border again and back on US soil. The hours and days sped by, racing him towards his destination.

As he approached the sprawling mass of L.A., the knot of tension in his stomach increased. He’d never liked the city. It was too preoccupied with fame and fortune, and an idea of perfection that was nigh on impossible to live up to; a noisy, bustling Mecca for those at the top, and those wanting to replace them. For Ryan, who was used to colder climes, it was also far too hot.

He pulled into a motel on the outskirts, not willing to venture too far into the city. Not yet. He paid in cash for a room and retreated inside it, thankful that he had enough food left over to satisfy his stomach until morning. Then he’d have to see about getting a suit—he’d sure never needed one up north. But Saturday was now only a day away.

Despite his considerable physical and mental fatigue from the long journey, Ryan barely slept that night. His mind was churning over the past and dreading the future, and the non-stop light and noise of the city, so far removed from the peaceful cry of gulls and the gentle rhythm of the breaking waves he was now used to, only heightened his unease. It felt a little like stepping back into a nightmare, only he wasn’t sure he’d wake.

Now he was here, the danger seemed more immediate, the doubts and risks that he’d gone over in his mind a dozen times, more insurmountable. In those early hours of the morning before the dawn broke, when the night was at its most oppressive, he contemplated packing up and leaving more than once. But the one thought that always brought him back from the brink, as it had done all along, was Drew. And so it was that, when morning came, Ryan was up brisk and early, intent on doing what he went there to do. As for everything else, he’d just have to take the knocks as they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there really is an Alaska T-Shirt with that slogan! Here you go:


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan stood across the road from the old cathedral, concealed by shadow, watching the steady stream of guests arrive. Every now and again he’d feel a jolt of recognition as a familiar face emerged from the line of cars. Dan Patterson... Ryan couldn’t believe the tight bastard had flown all the way over from the UK, or was he already here taping something else? Ryan wouldn’t have heard about it—he rarely bothered with television these days, preferring to get his news the old fashioned way. The fact that any channel could and did, at any time it seemed, show reruns of Whose Line had a great deal to do with it. He didn’t need reminders of his old life. 

He felt another, stronger jolt as the unmistakable form of Greg Proops appeared, his wife, Jen, on his arm in a rather garish but form fitting patterned dress. Was that the fashion now? She looked older, but Greg looked exactly as Ryan remembered him. Seeing him again made Ryan wish that he’d tried a little harder to stay in touch. Greg was a good friend. But then he was a good friend of Colin’s too. 

The crowd slowly thinned and Ryan began to relax, although the relief was tinged with disappointment. He felt a strange need to see Colin, despite the pain it would cause, just to know that he was all right. As the last few stragglers headed inside, Ryan stepped off the curb purposefully, adjusting his dark sunglasses. The weekend had dawned hazy but bright, giving him the perfect excuse to wear them—besides, everyone wore shades in L.A anyway. The beard added another layer of protection.

Nevertheless, his heart began to thump uncomfortably as he walked closer to what had been his old life. He removed the invitation from his pocket and held it out to the beefy security guard on the door, who scrutinized Ryan’s face for a moment and then looked down the extensive list attached to a clipboard. Five or six pages in, he found what he was looking for and nodded, stepping aside to allow Ryan entrance. Apparently Drew had kept Ryan on the list despite no reply to the invitation. The thought caused another frisson of guilt to pass through him.

He slipped inside and immediately stepped left, taking cover between the pillars and the wall. The place was almost full, rows upon rows of guests sitting facing the front, the loud murmur of hundreds of conversations echoing around the vaulted ceiling. The nineteenth century building was beautifully lit, the soft glow injecting warmth and life into the cold stone walls and pillars, and flowers had been artfully added here and there to complete the romantic effect; simple yet elegant.

Ryan adjusted his position so that he was next to one of the pillars in one corner, hidden from the view of many of the guests but still with a good view himself. His wandering gaze found Drew at the front, his mouth split in a wide grin as he conversed with the group huddled around him. He looked happier than Ryan had ever seen him, although his nerves were showing in the constant straightening of his suit, his hands unable to keep still.

Ryan scanned the rows, attempting to pick out other familiar faces, but then the lights dimmed and the music began. He turned at the sound, not having noticed the string quartet sitting in an alcove on the right-hand side of the room, beyond the outer row of pillars. The strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D drifted across the room as the bride entered in an elegant ivory gown, a modest train flowing out behind her.

There was suddenly a sea of faces as everyone turned to look. Ryan found himself scanning each one, his heart jumping each time he saw someone familiar, until, finally, with an almighty lurch, he found the hazel eyes he’d been searching for, a few rows from the front. For a moment everything else around him faded as, for the first time in five years, he looked at everything he’d walked away from.

Colin was oblivious to the tormented gaze upon him. The smile that lit up his face was one that Ryan had seen many times in the past, sometimes prompted by nothing but a look from Ryan. Ryan wondered, with a vicious twist of guilt, how long it had taken after he’d left for Colin to smile like that again. Brad sat on one side, a silly grin on his face, while Greg was on the other, a familiar glint in the dark eyes behind his glasses. Further along the row, Ryan spotted Chip next to Jeff and then, in the row directly behind, Wayne. Even Kathy had made it, her blonde hair standing out in a long line of brunettes, but Ryan’s gaze drifted back to rest on Colin, to drink him in for the few blessed moments he was looking Ryan’s way. But he was already losing him, Colin slowly turning back to face the front as the bride took her place beside a beaming Drew.

It took Ryan a moment to realize that one person hadn’t turned back, that he himself was an object of scrutiny. There was curiosity in the deep brown eyes that locked with his, but recognition along with cold anger flooded them almost immediately. There was no trace of a smile on Brad Sherwood’s face now. In fact, if there hadn’t been a wedding going on, Ryan was fairly certain that Brad would be out of his seat and trying to take him down with his bare hands. The murderous glint was no bluff. But the minister began to speak at that moment, drawing Brad’s attention. He threw Ryan one last disgusted look before turning back to face the front. No one else seemed to have noticed.

The service was shorter than Ryan expected; it took him a little by surprise when the room erupted in cheers as Drew sealed the deal with a kiss. Before he knew it, people were on their feet and his plan to slip quietly back out of the door to patiently await Drew’s exit, however many hours later, looked to be scuppered—even more so when Brad barreled towards him, drawing the curious gazes of those around, including Colin.

Ryan caught a brief glimpse of Colin’s shock and… something else… before Brad filled his vision, his tone venomous.

“You’ve got a fucking nerve showing up here, Stiles.”

Ryan retreated behind the pillar, away from the growing amount of curious stares, and Brad followed.

“I don’t want to cause a scene, Brad. I’m just here for Drew.”

Brad scoffed, spittle flying from his mouth onto Ryan’s suit. “Nice of you to think about him. You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You drop off the planet for five years—no one knows if you’re alive or dead—and you think you can waltz back in here for champagne and cake?” He stepped right up to Ryan so that they were almost nose to nose. “Go back to where you came from and stay there.”

Ryan wasn’t the least bit intimidated—he was used to Brad’s shit after years of it—but he did feel an irrational surge of anger. He hadn’t wronged Brad, not directly anyway. They’d never been close. What right did Brad have to react this strongly?

He shoved Brad away from him, not violently but enough to gain some space. “I’m here for Drew,” he repeated. “You may not like it, but that’s the way it is. And if you hadn’t come charging over here like a bull in a china shop, most of the guests would never have known I was here.” 

“Ryan.”

Drew’s voice deflated Brad’s swelling protest, forcing his retreat. Ryan turned, half expecting more anger, but was instead pulled into a fierce hug. He was stunned for a moment before he thought to return it.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Drew said, stepping back to study him but keeping a hand on Ryan’s arm. “Wow, you look different.”

Ryan eyed the crowd behind him and Brad’s retreating back. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.” He looked back at Drew and forced a smile. “I just wanted to say congratulations. I hope you’re very happy together.”

Drew caught his glance towards the door. “Please stay, meet Nicole.” He turned to look for her and Ryan felt the need to intervene quickly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Drew.”

“If anyone has a problem with it, they can come to me,” Drew replied, in a tone that brokered no arguments. “It’s my wedding and I invited you here.” He glanced back at Ryan with an intense expression. “Five years is long enough.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nicole was as gracious as she was beautiful, warmly greeting Ryan as if he had been her lifetime friend and, with the happy couple by his side, more old friends came over to say hello as champagne was passed around before the sit-down dinner. Most seemed only politely curious about what he’d been up to—Ryan didn’t catch any hint of underlying resentment or anger beneath their questions—and he gradually began to relax.

It was twenty minutes or so before the person he was most anxious about facing cautiously approached his position. The couple he’d been talking to moved away, leaving them alone… as alone as they could be in a crowded room.

Seeing Colin up close was at once wonderful and unbearable. The chasm that existed between them was almost physical. But, staring into Colin’s eyes, Ryan was at last able to identify what he’d briefly seen in them earlier and it wasn’t anger; it was relief. That alone caused more pain than any physical blow. Colin had feared him dead.

Ryan almost flinched as Colin walked right up to him, but the next moment he was pulled into a hug.

“Ryan,” Colin breathed.

Ryan stood immobile, fighting a surge of emotion as Colin’s warm scent filled his senses. “Hey, Col,” he murmured.

Colin stepped back, taking the warmth with him. Beyond him, Brad was watching them like a hawk, the murderous glare still present and Ryan knew that several other pairs of eyes were trained on them too. Colin was the oldest of the group, yet everyone had always felt the need to protect him. And Ryan had once been the most protective of all.

“You look… different,” Colin said softly.

“Yeah.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say. Sorry was perhaps a start, but how could it even begin to make up for what he’d done? He doubted if anything would cover it.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Colin managed a small smile and started to turn away. If Ryan was going to say anything, now was the time.

“Col, I—“

“Not now, Ry,” Colin said, his voice still soft but firm. “Not here. Let’s just enjoy the celebration.”

And then he was gone, melting back into the crowd, leaving Ryan feeling suddenly desolate. But the fact that Colin had reached out to him, no matter how briefly, seemed to break the paralysis keeping the others away, and lightened the atmosphere considerably.

Greg was the last to come over, sliding into the empty seat next to Ryan after dessert. The room had been transformed for the reception, round tables replacing the rows of chairs, the lights turning a soft lilac. Now that the speeches were done, many people had taken to the dance floor.

“It’s the return of the prodigal son,” Greg announced by way of hello. “Man, you even _look_ biblical. What’s with the fur?”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s the new me, I guess.”

“Well, you’ve got the whole world of store Santa job opportunities at your feet come Christmas,” Greg smirked, reaching for the nearest bottle and filling a glass. “Jeff said something about Alaska?”

“That’s where I washed up,” Ryan replied, his attention caught by Colin, who had just returned to his seat across the room. “What about you guys?”

Greg relaxed back in his chair, glass in hand, and gave him a piercing look. “By ‘you guys’ you mean Colin, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing straight on. “He’s okay… now. But you really broke him, Ry, and it took a fucking long time to put him back together again. So, believe me, there’ll be a long line of people ready to kick your ass if you ever hurt him like that again. And I’ll be up front.”

Ryan had no reason to doubt the sincerity in his tone, nodding to acknowledge their understanding. “Along with Brad.”

Watching Brad’s interaction with Colin, the lingering touches and the smiles, the reason for Brad’s earlier behavior became suddenly, startlingly clear.

“They’re together, aren’t they,” he said, finally tearing his gaze away to look at Greg.

Greg inclined his head slightly, all the while gauging Ryan’s reaction. “For a couple of years.”

Ryan said nothing, but a lead weight settled at the bottom of his stomach. He knew it was possible that Colin could have found someone else, and he certainly had no right to protest, but being faced with it was entirely another matter. He felt sick with himself for thinking, almost wishing, that Colin would be sitting waiting for his return. But Brad…

Greg seemed to know what he was thinking. “He’s grown up a lot, you know. And he was the only person who could get through to Colin when he was at his lowest. For all the good the rest of us tried to do—offering fucking platitudes and food parcels—Brad’s the reason we have Col back at all.” He took a sip of champagne. “You owe him, dude.”

Ryan continued to study Colin and Brad, while Greg talked about their various tours and about another television improv show that had tried and failed to reproduce the success of Whose Line—Ryan wasn’t particularly surprised by that, judging by Greg’s description. He had never liked the green screen.

After fifteen minutes or so, when the music had changed to a slow number that filled the dance floor with couples, Brad took Colin’s hand and led him into the centre, pulling him into his arms. The smile on Colin’s lips, and in his eyes, forced Ryan’s gaze away, countless memories clouding his vision and driving a sharp pain through his heart. But Colin was happy; Ryan had to be thankful for that. He had to let go.

“Ryan.”

Jen had appeared from nowhere, swooping down to kiss his cheek with a delicate waft of perfume. “It’s lovely to see you, hon.” He smiled and she continued to talk, but the words drifted over him. A minute later, she pulled Greg out of his seat and dragged him onto the dance floor.

Ryan eyed the bottle of champagne and then poured himself another glass. He needed it tonight.

Someone else slumped down in Greg’s vacated seat. Ryan glanced sideways to see Drew loosening his collar with what could only be described as an utterly content expression.

“Best day of my life, man.”

“You deserve it,” Ryan said, raising his glass.

Drew turned towards him. “I have a proposition for you before I go.”

“Drew, please, you’re a married man now.”

“Ha ha. I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Just as well, considering…”

“I’m not doing another television show.”

“I’m not asking you to. But there is a tour coming up in a month or so—“

“Drew…”

Drew held his hands up. “It’s a one-off thing; a Whose Line reunion tour, going right across the states. The fans have been clamoring for it for years, and the proceeds are going to a bunch of children’s cancer charities.”

Ryan stared at him, a fierce internal battle being fought in his mind. He couldn’t deny that it was for a good cause, but the thought of doing one last stint was both exhilarating and terrifying. Could he turn back down that path again? He could think of one big reason why he couldn’t.

“I don’t think Colin—“

“I know what you’re going to say, which is why I’ve already discussed it with him. He’s OK’d it.”

Ryan blinked and then closed his mouth.

“Look.” Drew leaned forwards. “Just think it over, that’s all I’m asking. You have a couple of weeks until I need a decision. It was going to go ahead without you, and it still can, but since you’re here I figured I’d ask. And if I don’t hear from you…” he shrugged, “I’ll have my answer.

“Right,” Drew slapped his thigh and stood up, “I have a honeymoon to enjoy. Take care, buddy.”

 

There didn’t seem to be a lot of point staying after Drew’s departure; many guests had left already, and the sobriety level of those who had remained was decreasing rapidly. Ryan glanced around for faces he knew, having lost track of them during his conversation, but only found Jeff and Chip ensconced at a table to the right of the dance floor.

Figuring that they probably wouldn’t notice, Ryan headed for the nearest door and found himself in the garden. The trees and shrubs were lit with hundreds of tiny lights, twinkling around a large group of guests talking and laughing drunkenly in the centre. Ryan turned left into the shadows, towards the dark metal railings of the gate, and as the music grew steadily dimmer behind him, the traffic from the road beyond the gate grew clearer.

“Leaving?”

Ryan jumped and turned; he hadn’t noticed the dark silhouette of another body amongst the deep shadows cast from the tree to one side. A brief flare from the end of a lit cigarette illuminated Colin’s face.

“I have a long drive ahead of me,” Ryan answered, wondering where Brad was and how long he’d be. He fingered the cigarette pack in his jacket pocket and stepped closer. “I thought you’d quit.”

Colin smiled humorlessly, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. “Circumstances forced the reversal of that decision.”

Ryan felt the familiar wave of guilt travel throughout his body. “I’m sorry, Col. It’s not nearly enough, but I am. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Colin said softly.

Ryan wanted to say more, to explain, but the minutes stretched in silence. To negate the need to fidget, he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and popped one between his lips.

“Still the same old brand,” Colin remarked, watching him with the ghost of a smile. “Here,” he added, offering his lighter. “You know, you should quit. Those things will kill you.”

Ryan snorted. “If life doesn’t first.” He lit up and took a long drag, the addict inside him relishing the moment. Standing there with Colin reminded him of all the times they’d smoked together outside the back doors of theatres and studios across the years. It was like falling back into a familiar routine, although the atmosphere now held an edge.

“Will you come back?” Colin asked abruptly. “For the tour?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Colin looked across, studying him. “You should,” he said finally. “It’s time.”

“Col?” Brad’s voice intruded. “You out here?”

Reality had reasserted itself, and Ryan knew it was the end of their conversation. Colin dropped the remainder of his cigarette, squashing it underfoot, and was on the point of leaving when he paused and turned back. Ryan couldn’t see his expression, only the barest light in reflected in his eyes.

“Improv is part of who you are, Ryan. Don’t let anything stop you from reclaiming it.”

Ryan watched Colin step back into the light and return to Brad, Brad’s frown of concern easily erased with a soft peck on the lips, and wondered if Colin knew just how much he was asking.


	5. Chapter 5

Colin’s words stayed with Ryan over the following days, throughout the journey back to Alaska when the open road allowed his mind to ponder the decision he had to make. And back at work on the sweeping ocean, his eyes would glaze over as he watched the sunlight fall across the water and shatter into a million glinting fragments.

While it was good to be back, Ryan felt like he’d left part of himself back in Los Angeles. Before there had been a clear divide between his two lives, but now his old life had seeped into his new one and the line was blurred. Things weren’t so simple anymore, and the list of reasons for staying away was growing shorter.

It was true that improv had been his life, but it had also almost destroyed it; the fact was that he loved and hated it in equal quantities. Nevertheless, the pull of going back on the stage, which had started the moment Drew had mentioned the tour, had only gotten stronger. And it was only one tour, a far cry from the long-running and increasingly stressful commitment of a television show—Ryan was never going back into that world.

One tour… the chance to perform with his old friends again… to perform with Colin. Ryan had lost Colin’s heart, something which he would have to bear witness to daily, but perhaps, with time, he could regain his friendship—the strongest friendship he’d ever known and something that was almost as precious. It was a second chance.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Eddie leant back against the railing, his eyes fixed on Ryan. It was early evening, just over a week after Ryan had returned, and they were the only two left on the boat; it gently nudged the dock with each swell of the ocean as if in greeting after a long day. “You want to quit your job and travel around the U.S. for a while… Is this some kind of mid-life crisis?”

Ryan smiled ruefully and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet; it’s just something I have to do, and I don’t expect you to keep my job open for me while I do it.”

“Well, I’ll be sorry to lose you—you’re a born fisherman. But there’ll always be a job here if you want it. Come on, drinks are on me.”

 

Ryan had found a small scrap of paper in his jacket pocket the night he’d returned to his motel room in L.A. Scribbled on it, in Drew’s familiar scrawl, was a phone number. When two weeks had passed, Ryan dialed it.

“You’ll do it?”Drew’s astonishment was as clear as if Ryan was standing beside him. “That’s fantastic! Oh man, this is gonna be so great—“

“Drew.” Ryan cut him off mid-flow, uncomfortable with how much he was building it up. “Just tell me when and where.”

 

Second thoughts entered Ryan’s mind several times whilst preparing to leave. But the next morning, suitcase in hand, he took the ferry back to the mainland, and silently bid goodbye to the ocean and the home that had become his sanctuary, fully committing himself to the rootless existence that was life on tour.

There was a small airport not far from the coast, which he reached within twenty minutes after hailing a cab. Drew had insisted on sending a private jet for him, and Ryan could hardly refuse; the tour started in two days and it took at least three to journey by car, plus there would undoubtedly be meetings and rehearsals. But the small twin-engine plane waiting on the landing strip hardly filled him with confidence.

Swiftly waved aboard and his luggage stowed, Ryan took his seat as the engines roared to life on either side. He quickly fastened his seatbelt and gripped the edge of each armrest as if they held the key to a safe, problem-free flight. Despite the cool interior of the aircraft, he was already sweating profusely. There was at least, he noticed, a complementary sick bag provided along with the in-flight magazines and safety manuals.

The pilot—far too young, in Ryan’s opinion—merely grinned at him and patted the bulkhead. “Best bird in the air, she is. We’ll have you there in no time.”

Ryan was tempted to point out that every pilot thought that until he was hurtling downwards, out of control, but thought better of it. His life was in this man’s hands.

Several hours later, the wheels touched down on hot tarmac and Ryan released his death grip on the seat along with a deep breath. His luggage was transferred to a waiting car and within moments he was speeding through L.A. towards Drew’s mansion. Passing all the familiar sights was like flicking through a photo album of his old life, and it brought home the reality of the situation like nothing else; he was really doing this. _No backing out now, Stiles._

Drew swooped on him as soon as he was out of the car, grinning broadly as he led Ryan inside.

“Welcome back to civilization, buddy.”

“The circus, you mean.”

Ryan had forgotten how much L.A. was rooted in wealth and technology; in fact, Drew had added a lot more of what Ryan referred to as ‘gizmos’ to his house. Everyone always wanted the latest thing. It was a far cry from the simplicity of an Alaskan fishing community, where cable TV was a luxury and cell phones were only useful as makeshift paperweights. The guest room he was shown into was almost as big as the house he’d left that morning.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked, turning away from the window that looked onto the extensive backyard and large swimming pool at the rear of the house. Drew had perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“The others will be arriving over the next day or so, and then on Monday we set off north. I’ll show you the list of confirmed places and dates later—we’re almost completely sold out already so we may have to add more. We finish back in L.A. in December for the final shows here.”

“Who else do you have?”

“Well, Colin and Brad, obviously, Greg, Jeff, Chip, and Kathy Greenwood’s said that she can do a couple of shows. Don’t worry, you’ll get rehearsal time,” Drew added, perhaps catching a hint of Ryan’s renewed anxiety in his expression.

“Wayne?”

Drew shook his head. “He has filming commitments; I’m telling you, he’s busier than I am these days. I thought I was going to have to make do without the _both_ of you. Oh, here…” He got up and walked to the wardrobe that covered one wall, sliding the door across. “I’ve got some suits for you—I didn’t know if you still had any.”

Ryan let out a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah, I kind of went out of the suit business.” He followed Drew over and ran his hand across the rail of soft tailored jackets, which, knowing Drew, were probably the best in town. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_. For doing this.”

A little uncomfortable with accepting thanks for something that he hadn’t done yet, and might not do well, Ryan turned away, brushing it off with, “Gotta have a farewell tour. So how was the honeymoon?”

“Oh, man, it was great…”

Ryan was happy to let Drew do the talking. He began to unpack the few items he’d need over the weekend, trying hard not to think about the fact that he’d be sleeping under the same roof as Colin for the first time in five years.


	6. Chapter 6

Chip and Jeff were the next to arrive that evening. They had obviously been told of Ryan’s decision to join the tour as they weren’t surprised to see him, but seemed genuinely pleased. Shortly after that came Greg and they all shared a pleasant evening together, although the imminent arrival of the final two members of the group was the very large elephant in the room. 

However, as it turned out, Colin and Brad didn’t show up until the following morning. The first Ryan knew of it was a pile of suitcases by the door as he made his way down to breakfast, making him pause mid-step. 

He found Brad out on the patio with Drew and Greg, sitting around a large table, deep in conversation; Brad’s cheerful expression only faltered slightly on seeing him, but before they could exchange a word, Colin emerged from the kitchen. He was wearing loose pants and a soft cotton shirt, open at the top, and looked completely relaxed. Setting a fresh pot of coffee on the table beside Brad, with a quick light squeeze to his shoulders, he smiled widely and moved to envelope Ryan in a warm hug.

“I’m so glad you decided to do this.”

“You may live to regret those words,” Ryan joked, not afraid to return the hug this time. It felt wonderfully familiar.

“Nonsense,” Colin said, swatting his arm as he finally pulled away. “It’s what you do best.”

“Hey, you’re here!” Jeff grinned, looking sleepy and disheveled as he walked out to join them in sweats and a t shirt; he’d clearly just rolled out of bed. Colin was quickly scooped into a hug and swept back towards Brad, leaving Ryan to take a seat by Greg. He tuned out the conversation, pouring himself a strong coffee, and only looked up when Chip joined them a few minutes later. The group was now complete. They enjoyed a hearty breakfast and were several cups of coffee down before the conversation inevitably turned to the tour.

“So we’re doing the same games as Whose Line?” Jeff asked, stretching his long legs out of the shade from the parasol and into the sunshine.

“Pretty much,” Drew nodded. “We’ll mix things up a bit… see what happens.”

“You should throw a couple of new games in there, too, as well as the old favorites,” Greg commented, lighting a cigarette and drawing the ash tray closer. “Ones that work better on stage, like New Choice and Freeze. We’ve had good responses with those.”

Jeff and Chip made noises of agreement; Greg had been touring with them on and off for a while, in-between podcasts and stand-up shows. In fact, Ryan was the only one at the table who hadn’t been doing live shows in one form or another since Whose Line finished, but he was inclined to agree. Television was a very different medium to the stage; they would have to take a slightly different approach, choosing games that would work the best. He did his best to contribute to the discussion, lighting his own cigarette and sharing Greg’s ashtray.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and enjoying all the home comforts they’d miss whilst on tour. When Ryan stepped out into the backyard in the afternoon, having just taken the final step back to his old self and shaved off his beard, he received a long, low whistle from Greg, who was on a nearby recliner, still fully clothed.

“Hey, look guys, Ryan’s shown up!”

Ryan flipped him the finger and sat down as everyone else’s gaze swung his way, making him feel as if he were in the center of a very bright spotlight. Colin was watching him over the top of his book; his expression was the most difficult to fathom, but when Ryan met his eyes it transformed into a smile and he nodded.

“Much better.”

“I kinda liked the beard,” Chip piped up, sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water. “I think it makes a man look more mature.”

“Or a bum,” Greg pointed out, dodging the water Chip splashed his way with a smirk. “You know I’m right, kitten.”

“So, do you think I should grow a beard then?” Jeff grinned, swimming over to him in three lazy strokes.

“Nah, it wouldn’t work on you. Your maturity level’s too low to start with.”

He yelped as Jeff grabbed his legs and pulled him into the pool, surfacing a moment later with a spluttered laugh. “The defense rests, your honor.”

“Are you kids going to get out of that pool at all today?” Ryan asked, donning sunglasses and adjusting the parasol so that he was out of the strong Californian sunshine. He’d forgotten how quickly he burned.

“We might as well make the most of it while we have one,” Jeff shrugged, launching himself backwards and kicking long, lean legs upwards with a huge splash.

Sensing movement to his right, Ryan looked across to see Brad applying more sunscreen to his arms and legs. Ryan knew that Brad would have preferred him to stay in Alaska—probably the further away the better. But the few words they had exchanged had been civil, at least. Brad was obviously taking his cue from Colin, despite his own misgivings.

When Brad shifted position to reapply sunscreen to Colin’s bare arms, it was with a much softer touch. Colin glanced up from his book and stretched his arms out with a smile, murmuring something that Ryan couldn’t hear. When Brad had finished, Colin caught hold of his shirt and pulled him closer, pecking his lips softly in thanks. Ryan looked away before it could deepen, back to the pool; knowing about it was one thing, but seeing it was ten times harder.

 

It wasn’t long after that Drew interrupted proceedings, clapping his hands excitedly and beckoning them all to come out front. As soon as they stepped through the door, a huge, shining black tour bus filled their vision, blocking out the sun.

“You don’t do things by halves, man, I’ll give you that,” Greg said, giving Drew’s back a slap as he passed.

“Don’t put wet footprints everywhere!” Drew shouted as Chip and Jeff reached the door first. The towels wrapped around their waists were doing little to dry the rest of them.

Ryan followed Greg inside, pleasantly surprised by just how much space there was—Chip and Jeff had already disappeared. The area they’d entered was the kitchen, fully equipped with a refrigerator, microwave, and coffee maker; to the right of that was the lounge, comfortable seats surrounding several large television screens and a full entertainment system. Everything was sleek, new, and expertly finished. They really couldn’t have asked for more.

“Nice,” Greg said, his tone appreciative as he looked around. “We might actually all survive being cooped up in this thing together for the next few months.”

Ryan snorted. “Famous last words.”

They moved down the bus as Colin, Brad, and Drew entered behind them, passing through the sleeping area where spacious individual bunks lay behind curtains, towards the back, where there was a separate bathroom and shower. They found Chip outside the bathroom, wearing an amused if somewhat exasperated expression. 

Greg looked from Chip to the door. “Is he…?”

“Yup.”

A loud flush sounded behind the door and then Jeff appeared, looking satisfied. He stopped at the sight of the three of them staring at him. “What? You’ve got to check the important features.”

“And does it pass inspection?” Chip asked.

“Well, the floor’s a bit wet,” Jeff smirked.

“Woah, too much information.”

“I meant from my body, Greg.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“No, from—“ Jeff stopped, looking at Chip. “I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?”

“Uh-huh,” Chip smirked.

Snickering, Ryan and Greg left them to it and went to find the others. 

“What do you think?” Drew asked, looking up from flicking through TV channels with Colin. Brad’s head was buried in the fully stocked fridge.

“I think this baby just needs the ability to transform into a rocket and we’d be all set for an apocalypse,” said Greg, swiping a beer from under Brad’s nose and collapsing down next to Colin. He shifted to put his feet up along the sofa, stretching like a cat and resting his head on Colin’s lap with a satisfied sign. “Okay, I’m ready to go.”

Colin peered down at him, quirking an eyebrow. “You want your tummy rubbed too?” 

“If you’re offering,” Greg leered. 

He was just able to scrabble out of the way in time before Brad reached him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for posting late this week - I've had some health issues to deal with.

Colin sat quietly in his recliner in the backyard that evening, looking up at the wide expanse of clear sky. The sun had set some time ago and the stars were becoming steadily brighter, but the air remained perfectly warm. The only sound, apart from the occasional burst of laughter floating out through the open windows and doors, was the gentle, lulling song of the many crickets hidden in the undergrowth.

Brad would probably come looking for him soon, with that anxious frown that he’d been wearing so often lately. But Colin needed these few moments alone with his thoughts, before months of constant company robbed him of the chance. And he had to prepare himself for living with Ryan once more. Being so close to him again brought a whole host of memories to the surface—some happy, some painful. The painful ones seemed to linger longer, eager to twist the knife when he least expected it, often triggered by a simple look or word.

He was tough now—tougher than he had been—but his armor was still weak where Ryan was concerned. Seeing him step out of the house without his beard had transported Colin straight back five years, to the man he’d said goodbye to with a kiss on that fateful morning. 

Colin had been feeling nothing but contentment when he’d come home that evening. He’d often wondered later why he hadn’t felt something else, a twinge of unease… _something_ ; he and Ryan were supposed to have this famed psychic connection, right? But he’d been blissfully ignorant of what he was about to step into.

He could still picture the house as he walked from the car. Dark. Silent. He’d imagined Ryan falling asleep in front of the TV like he sometimes did, a beer still clutched tightly in his hand. He’d smiled in anticipation of gently waking him, pulling him up to bed.

But the silence inside the house had been oppressive. He’d called, softly at first and then louder. He’d searched every room, expecting to find him in the next, and growing a little more concerned each time he didn’t. Finally he’d gone to the kitchen, on the point of calling Greg when the note propped against the vase of fresh flowers had caught his eye… and the ring. 

Now Colin was back in that kitchen again, the note slipping from his limp fingers. It had fluttered to the floor where it settled face-up, the six words in Ryan’s familiar writing staring up at him.

_I can’t do this. I’m sorry._

A moment later, Colin had found himself kneeling amongst scattered debris of glass and petals on the floor, Ryan’s ring spinning amongst the broken flowers.

“Hey.”

Colin’s eyes flew open, bringing him back to the present. A tall figure was silhouetted against the house, but it wasn’t who he’d expected.

Ryan took the seat beside him, pulling out a cigarette. “Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing.

For a moment, the pain still fresh in his mind, Colin was tempted to turn away—to make an excuse and return to the safety of the group. But he was curious about what Ryan had to say. “Go ahead.” 

Once the cigarette was lit, and soft clouds of smoke were issuing skywards, Ryan turned and said, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right. What?” he added, for Colin hadn’t been able to repress a huff of laughter at the question.

“Nothing,” Colin shook his head. “It’s just that you sound like Brad. He’s been asking that a lot lately.”

“And _are_ you?” Ryan asked curiously.

Shooting a hand out, Colin snatched the cigarette from his mouth and took a long drag, contemplating his answer.

“Look, I’m glad that you’re here. I am,” he insisted, seeing doubt creep into Ryan’s eyes. “But it’s… hard. I knew it would be.” He blew out a stream of smoke and handed the cigarette back.

Ryan closed his fingers around it, holding Colin’s gaze. “I’ll go if you want me to, Col.”

The residual pain from the memory flared, and anger with it. It was a mirthless, ugly smile that twisted Colin’s lips as he pulled his hand away. 

“Do you know how long I looked for you, Ryan? After you left? How long I searched before the guys finally convinced me to let you go?” When Ryan only stared at him, Colin continued. “Two years, Ry. _Two. Years._ And now you calmly sit there and say that to me.” He made a derisive sound in his throat and stood up. “You son of a bitch.”

“Col—“

Colin turned on him, cutting him off. “Of course I don’t want you to go. There’s still a part of me that needs you.” He sighed heavily, picking up his shoes. “And right now… I _hate_ that part.”

 

Brad looked up the moment that Colin stepped through the door, his grin fading. “What happened?” he asked, moving to Colin’s side. His gaze drifted past Colin to the garden and his jaw tightened dangerously at Ryan’s profile, spurring Colin to speak.

“Nothing,” he said softly, aware that the others had quieted and were now watching him curiously too. He was glad that Ryan hadn’t followed him; it wouldn’t take much for this to blow out of control, and a fight really wasn’t what they needed the night before the tour started. “I’m just tired. I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Brad didn’t look entirely convinced, but his expression softened when he looked back at Colin. “That’s probably a good idea; I’ll join you.”

Colin smiled as Brad took his hand and bid the guys goodnight. He knew that Brad was still worried and wanted to keep him close. Once they were through the door of their room, he took Colin’s face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes, silently seeking the reassurance he needed. Colin gave it, meeting his lips, softly at first and then harder, needing warmth and love to banish the pain back to the depths of his soul.

Brad slipped the shirt from his shoulders, his fingers skimming along the warm flesh as he lay gentle kisses along the curve of Colin’s neck. Colin tilted his head slightly, his eyes fluttering closed. Yes, this was what he needed—what they _both_ needed. He pulled Brad closer, flush with his body, so that Brad could feel his enjoyment. Brad’s own was prominent in his loose-fitting shorts; Colin slid a hand down to cup him lightly and then began a gentle massage through the thin material. Groaning, Brad returned to Colin’s mouth and plundered it.

It was in a haze of pleasure that their clothes were discarded, the world tilting as they fell onto the cool sheets. And as Brad moved above him and then within him, his fingers tightly entwined with Colin’s to mirror their bodies, their lips finding each other again and again, Colin found peace. But when he came, gasping and shuddering, he closed his eyes and saw a flash of green in the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay. I won't go into detail, but it couldn't be helped. It also means that I can't make any promises on how regularly I'll update this story from now on, but I'll keep working on it when I can. I hope you can all bear with me. <3

It was an early start the next morning. Their first show in Sacramento wasn’t until the following night, but they needed to get there and have a solid amount of rehearsal time. Ryan, who had become used to early starts as a fisherman, was one of the first down to breakfast despite the fact that he’d had a restless night.

“Morning, sunshine,” Drew called from the table, folding his newspaper. “Here.” He poured a cup of coffee and slid it towards Ryan. “You look like you need this.”

Murmuring his thanks, Ryan sank into a chair. He could feel Drew’s eyes on him as he took a sip of the scalding liquid, burning the tip of his tongue.

“Rough night?”

Ryan only grunted, blowing on his coffee to cool it.

“I assume that had something to do with Colin,” Drew said carefully. “Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

“Just drop it, Drew, okay?” Ryan replied heavily, taking a mouthful of coffee. Right now he didn’t care if it was still too hot; the burn was welcome. He’d seen the glint of accusation in everyone’s eyes when he’d finally followed Colin inside the night before; they all knew that he’d fucked up… again.

“I need to know if you’re going to be able to work together, because if not—“

“We’ll be fine,” Ryan said, hoping that he was right. Last night he’d realized how stupid he’d been to think that they could just slip back into his old life without consequences. Their friendship had always been the bedrock of his life, but now it was as delicate and fragile as a flower in the wind. But, despite any difficulty between them, he knew that Colin left all his personal baggage at the stage door; he was the definition of a consummate professional.

When Colin came down to breakfast with Brad a short time later, Brad shot Ryan a dark look but Colin seemed back to his normal self, smiling and laughing at Brad’s side. Taking their cue from him, any remaining tension in the group lifted and Ryan was treated just as amiably, with the exception maybe of Brad who hadn’t been particularly warm to start with. Still, as the plates were cleared and a few last things packed, Ryan took advantage of a brief moment alone to try to make things right. But before he could get more than a few words out, Colin shook his head.

“No, I overreacted. You caught me at a bad moment, that’s all.” He sighed and offered a small reassuring smile. “I don’t want you to spend the next few months constantly apologizing.”

“But I _am_ sorry, Col. For everything.” Ryan felt like he had to say it—now, before they were swept up in the whirlwind of shows and screaming fans.

Colin reached out to grasp his arm lightly, sadness in his eyes but also compassion. “I know.”

It was the smallest of steps forward, and the weight of guilt pressing on Ryan’s soul eased ever so slightly. He moved the tips of his fingers to lightly cover Colin’s hand. They rested there for just a moment before Drew’s voice boomed through the house.

“Okay, kids! Time to get this show on the road.”

 

The first leg of their journey flew past, thanks to light traffic on the interstate and an almost holiday atmosphere on the bus—among most of the occupants anyway; Brad was still throwing dirty looks Ryan’s way whenever they crossed paths, and Ryan figured that wasn’t going to change any time soon. For the others, though, there was nothing but a cheerful buzz of excitement for the official start of the tour. Even Ryan couldn’t help but be swept up in the euphoria of it, especially when Colin smiled his way.

The theater in downtown Sacramento wasn’t very appealing to look at—a vast array of bare stone walls and pillars—but it _was_ familiar. Ryan dimly remembered performing a couple of shows there in the past, back when they’d do the occasional short tour in-between filming commitments. Hopefully having that little piece of familiarity would help a little when it came to stepping back into that spotlight. As the bus pulled up, he could see several promotional posters on display for the tour, complete with old stock photos of the cast, all struck through with large bands that read ‘ _SOLD OUT!_ ’

Drew hopped off the bus first and headed inside, returning within a matter of a few minutes. “Okay,” he said briskly, “we have the place to ourselves for a little under three hours, so let’s get in there. Rehearsals start in ten minutes!”

“Wow,” Jeff commented as everyone got to their feet to follow. “I thought we’d at least get a chance to look around first… have a few drinks maybe. What happened to the old Drew?”

“Courage, kitten,” Greg said, looking grim. “I think he might be channeling Dan.”

Horrified, Jeff turned to Chip. “They do exorcisms for that, right?”

“I’m not sure British assholes come under the jurisdiction of the Church, Jeff.”

The last Ryan heard was Jeff's muttered, "Fuck!" as he stepped off the bus. Colin stepped off directly after him and they shared an amused glance before Brad landed between them, grumbling about spilt coffee and working with children. Ryan refrained from pointing out that Brad used to be the worst child of them all.

 

“Love, love me do! You know I love you! I’ll always be true! So pleeeeeeeeease… love me doooooo!”

Drew looked up from his notes, casting Chip and Jeff an exasperated look as the latter cupped his hands to his mouth and pretended to play the harmonica. “I asked you to do a sound check, guys, not kill the thing.”

Ryan, casually leaning against a wall in the wings of the theater, watched them continue their impromptu duet, unfazed by Drew’s protest. Both had very good voices, something he already knew, but he was only now catching a glimpse of how good they were together—not just with the singing, but in general. He could see that they made a great team.

“Hey,” a soft voice called playfully from the back of the theatre, “no singing unaccompanied.”

“I know that voice,” Colin said, a wide grin breaking across his face. Hopping down the few steps from the stage, he quickly walked up the aisle to sweep a beaming Laura Hall into a hug.

“You’re here for this show?” he asked, holding onto her affectionately.

She shook her head, laughing; her hair, which had grown out since Whose Line, bounced around her shoulders. “I’m here for the tour, buddy.”

Drew, who had obviously orchestrated the whole thing, wore an expression of gleeful satisfaction as the others followed on Colin’s heels, taking turns to hug her and offer their own greetings. Ryan hovered just beyond the stage until Laura looked up and saw him there.

“Hello stranger,” she said, smiling wider as she strode forward to pull him down into her arms.

Ryan returned the hug and the smile, finding comfort in her warmth and familiar scent. It had always felt almost motherly. In the background he could hear the others playfully admonishing Drew about not telling them, the whole mood reinvigorated by her arrival.

“It’s good to see you,” she whispered in Ryan’s ear, squeezing him tighter before pulling back to scrutinize his face. “You’re looking better. Are you?”

Ryan was taken aback for a moment; he had forgotten how perceptive she was. Laura had always been in the background on the Whose Line set, part of the scenery, but she saw everything.

“Yeah, I am,” he nodded.

“Good,” she said, smiling. Linking her arm in his, Laura led him back onto the stage where the crew was busy setting up the rest of the audio and musical equipment. “This is going to be so great.”

Ryan’s eyes strayed towards Colin, who was sharing a bottle of water with Brad. “I hope so.”

 

Despite rehearsing for a couple of hours that afternoon, and again the next morning, it didn’t seem enough for Ryan’s liking. It was often said in the business that improv was a muscle that needed to be constantly worked to remain in top condition, and Ryan’s had lain unused for years. A few hours hardly seemed sufficient to cover that. But everyone else seemed happy enough with the run-throughs, so they clearly didn’t share his concerns. He would have to take it as it came and hope for the best.

“Ten minutes guys!” Drew called into the green room. “And girl,” he added quickly when Laura raised an eyebrow in his direction. She laughed and turned back to resume her conversation with Greg.

Ryan was sitting on the edge of the couch, his eyes on the door but his mind on the show that they were about to perform—that _he_ was about to perform, for the first time in years. It felt strange to be back in a suit again, his face touched with make-up, his hair tamed, but his biggest test would come when he walked out on that stage.

The couch dipped beside him and he felt a gentle hand on his knee, steadying the nervous jiggling that he hadn’t even been aware he was doing.

“You’ll be fine,” Colin said, leaning in, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s just like riding a bike.”

Ryan let out a quiet snicker. “That’s how I broke my arm when I was a kid.”

“Okay, bad analogy,” Colin snorted. “But you’re just going out on stage to have fun with your friends. No cameras, no censors… and definitely no hoedowns.”

“Thank Christ.”

“Amen,” Colin grinned.

Ryan grinned back at him, and for one moment they were united again; a team. Then Brad was there, offering Colin his hand with a boyish grin.

“Ready to do this thing?”

And Colin grasped it without hesitation. “Absolutely.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Hello and welcome to the tour that we can’t call ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway?’ for legal reasons.”

Drew paused for the appreciative laughter to die down. “But everything’s still made up and the points still don’t matter! And we have everyone except the black guy and the blonde girl.”

The rest of the cast waited in the wings as Drew continued his monologue, warming up the crowd. Although, judging by their enthusiastic response, they didn’t need much warming. The whole place was positively buzzing with excitement. It didn’t make Ryan feel any better. He needed another cigarette.

“So, without further ado, let’s bring out the cast for tonight… first our musical maestro, Laura Hall!”

Applause started up straight away as Laura walked out and took her seat at the keyboard, her face lit up with a smile.

Chip Esten!”

More applause as Chip walked out, giving a quick wave to the audience.

“Jeff Davis!”

Jeff’s entrance was accompanied by several wolf-whistles. He grinned, blowing a kiss as he went to stand next to Chip.

“Brad Sherwood!”

Brad raised an arm to acknowledge the hoots and cheers, stopping beside Jeff.

“We also have the smartest man in the world... Greg Proops!”

The sound level was increasing now, many people on their feet. As Greg saluted the audience, Ryan felt Colin’s hand close around his and squeeze it briefly.

“The best Canadian south of the border, and the baldest… Colin Mochrie!”

It was the loudest cheer yet as Colin walked out, smiling and waving. Now Ryan stood alone, his heart suddenly thumping. The glowing emergency exit was looking very appealing right now.

“And he’s back, the biggest feet west of the Mississippi… Ryan Stiles!”

Swallowing, Ryan forced himself to move. The audience was on their feet, roaring their approval, but he only shot a brief smile their way, focusing instead on reaching Colin who was smiling and applauding along with them, his hazel eyes projecting calm reassurance.

“Yes, all of these guys will be performing for you tonight, and I will too.”

“You mean you’re going to work?” Greg cut in, feigning surprise. “That’s intense, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew smirked as many people in the audience laughed and whooped. “Well, I didn’t want to haul the desk around the country.”

“As I was saying, we’ll all be performing for you and you’ll see many of your favorite games from Whose Line. Except Hoedown; Colin threatened to sue if I broke contract on that one.”

The whole of the audience reacted to that one, most laughing at Colin’s fervent nod of agreement, although one man at the front booed loudly. Greg immediately took a step towards the front of the stage, his gaze fixed on the individual in question.

“Hey, dude, you want to come up and do a hoedown? I’m sure we’d all love to see that.”

Predictably, his offer was quickly rejected and peace restored.

“Okay,” Drew continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Let’s get this show underway with a game of Questions Only. This will be for everyone, but we’ll start with, let’s see, Jeff and Chip!”

The two of them walked forward to applause, sharing an easy smile and a backslap, while the others lined up on either side behind them.

“Now, I may not have a desk but…” Drew produced a handheld device attached to a long lead, “I have a buzzer!”

“You couldn’t resist, could you Drew?” Jeff smirked.

“Okay, we need a suggestion for where this scene could take place. Anyone?”

Drew ignored the calls of ‘toilet’ and ‘strip club’, pretty standard fare in any live show and hardly imaginative. “A beach! Thank you.” He turned back to the group. “You’re on a beach, and it’s questions only. Take it away.”

“Can you grab the sunscreen?” Chip asked, laying out an imaginary rug.

Jeff pretended to rummage in a bag. “Do you mean this one?”

“Does it say ‘sunscreen’ on it?”

Jeff peered at it and then mimed opening the bottle. “Where do you want it?”

“Could you rub it all over me?”

“Are we still talking about the sun screen?” Jeff purred, waggling his eyebrows.

“…”

Chip muttered a curse as he was buzzed out, replaced by Colin.

“Why did you want to meet me _here_ , Joanne?” Colin asked irritably.

Jeff blinked, opening his mouth to reply but he was clearly stumped. Ryan waited for the buzzer and stepped forward; he tuned out the considerable noise from the crowd, seeing only Colin. _Just like riding a bike. Here goes…_

“Can you point me to the safe part of the beach?”

“Do I _look_ like a lifeguard?”

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” Ryan frowned.

Colin tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. “Don’t you find them constricting?”

Ryan let out a gasp. “Is this a nudist beach?”

“What do you think?”

“Should I take mine off too?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“…Is that rhetorical?”

Colin gave him a look—the look he had always given Ryan when he knew he was beaten—and broke into a smile as the buzzer sounded. And then the roar from the audience rushed back in, as if someone had turned up the volume, the years flew away, and Ryan was home.

He greeted Greg with a smirk, ready to play some more.

 

It was in high spirits that the cast and crew poured into a bar a few blocks away from the theatre later that evening. There was no doubt that the show had been a huge success; the hour long meet and greet afterwards had obliterated any doubts they might have had on that score. The first, and highest, hurdle had been successfully overcome.

Ryan’s adrenaline level, which had kept him flying high for several hours, had drifted down to a slow, sated thrum of contentment, and the tumbler of whisky in his hand was enhancing it, creeping through his veins with a warm lethargy. He’d forgotten how good it felt. Taking another sip, he studied Colin and Brad, who were across the bar with Chip and Drew, his gaze lingering on the arm that was loosely wrapped around Colin’s waist—a casual yet possessive reminder of his claim. Ryan’s buzz dropped another notch.

He looked away as Laura sank onto the stool beside him, holding her finger up for another drink before turning her smile on Ryan. “You did great tonight. Are you glad you came?”

Ryan shrugged, glancing down into his glass. “It felt good to be back on stage again.”

Laura flashed a smile of thanks to the bartender as he placed another glass of white wine before her. “But?” she prompted when they were alone again. She fixed him with a shrewd look when he didn’t answer. “Colin.”

Ryan remained silent, taking another sip of whisky. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to talk about it.

Laura lifted her own glass to her lips, looking over at Colin contemplatively. “He still loves you, you know. That much hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t deserve his love,” Ryan said into his drink.

“Well, you have it hon, whether you think you deserve it or not. And I happen to think that you deserve a lot of things—happiness for one.”

Ryan finally looked up at her, scoffing. “After what I did?”

“Did you want to leave Colin? To hurt him? No, of course you didn’t, because you’re not that sort of man.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I _did_ hurt him,” Ryan said quietly, putting his empty glass down on the bar and standing. Averting his gaze from everyone else, he withdrew his pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket and made his way outside, his earlier contentment a distant memory.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd give you a chapter for Christmas, although it's more angst than festive fluff I'm afraid. Sorry! x

It didn’t take long for the group to settle into an easy routine. They passed the time on the road by playing cards, watching one of the mountain of DVDs—a couple more were added to the collection at every major town or city—or catching up on sleep if they needed it, taking it in turns to go out for supplies whenever they stopped. Mike, their friendly tour bus driver, drew the line at shopping. Laura was the unofficial mom of the group, keeping their testosterone fuelled antics from going too far, never shying away from putting someone in their place. She also played a mean game of poker, managing to wipe Drew out in record time when he got a little too confident during their first game. He didn’t make that mistake again.

Nights proved to be the hardest for Ryan. For one thing, his 6’6 frame wouldn’t fit completely comfortably into his berth so he had to try to sleep with his legs bent a little at the knees. And then there was Greg’s snoring in the berth above him; in the early hours of the morning, with little or no sleep, the temptation to get up and smother him with a pillow was increasingly hard to resist. So he’d taken to sleeping during the day whenever the opportunity presented itself, despite the possibility of waking with a moustache drawn on his face in marker pen.

The shows were actually the easy part, pretty much taking care of themselves, and they seemed to get better and better each time. It was the only time that Ryan felt complete, especially since, away from the stage, Brad stayed so close to Colin that it was next to impossible to spend any real time alone.

“Oh, looks like it’s nap time for Ryan again,” Greg smirked, pausing in his conversation with Jeff and Chip. It was early afternoon in the second week, and they weren’t due to arrive at their next destination for several hours. “You want me to tuck you in, man?”

Ryan, whose eyes had only closed for an instant, shot him a filthy look before closing them again. “Maybe if you didn’t snore like a fucking elephant in heat…” 

Chip and Jeff snickered.

“I’m always in heat, dude,” Greg replied, sounding both unrepentant and resigned. “Speaking of fucking, where did Colin and Brad go?”

“To sleep, I think,” Chip answered.

“Is that what they call it?”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. That was not an image he needed when he was trying to get to sleep.

“It is in those beds,” Jeff said ruefully.

“Hey, if you boys want to get it on, you can do it right here. Just give me a minute to grab beer and popcorn.”

The ensuing laughter was cut short by a loud bang, like a gun going off, and then the bus started to judder and slow. Ryan was up in an instant, bracing his arm against the back of the couch to look out of the window. All he saw was empty road and a featureless flat expanse; the chances of them hitting anything out here were remote.

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of bang,” Greg grumbled as Drew appeared, still clutching the sports magazine that he’d taken into the bathroom.

“Okay, who broke the bus?”

Greg turned to look at him, eyeing the magazine. “I hope you flushed, dude.”

As soon as the bus came to a halt at the side of the road, the five of them piled out of the door to find out what was going on. The problem became immediately apparent; one of the large tires was a mess of shredded rubber.

“Blow out,” Mike said, climbing down from the cab. “There must have been something in the road.”

“How long is this gonna set us back?” Drew asked, thinking of the tight schedule that they had to keep.

Mike shrugged, tugging a cap on his head as he headed back along the bus towards the rear. “Thirty minutes, maybe… less if I have help.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Chip said, jogging to catch up, and Jeff went after him. 

Greg clapped his hands together. “Okay, now that’s sorted, I need coffee,” he announced, heading back inside. Drew hovered uncertainly for a minute and then followed him.

The wind whipping his hair and clothes, Ryan pulled his cigarettes out and leant against the bus, sliding one between his lips. He had to cup his hands right around the lighter to stop the flame from being extinguished as he lit the tip and inhaled deeply. The place was silent except for the wind, which blew the dry dusty earth across the road in ever changing patterns. There wasn’t any sign of life on the long straight road in either direction.

The door swung open again and Brad appeared, looking disheveled. Ryan viciously squashed the associated images that sprang to mind.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you think?” Ryan scoffed. “We’ve decided to do a show in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Brad shot him a look and then jumped down, heading off in the direction of Jeff, who had just reappeared at the rear of the bus. Colin stepped down after him, his gaze lingering on Brad’s back before moving to Ryan’s face. There was a hint of disapproval in his expression, but also concern.

“You okay?” he asked, moving next to Ryan and mirroring his position.

“Peachy,” Ryan muttered, failing to keep the bite out of his tone. He couldn’t get Brad’s crumpled clothes, his smug expression, out of his head. “This won’t take long to fix, then you and Brad can get back to it.”

Colin stared at him and then pushed off from the bus, turning to face him properly. “You think we were—God, you’re an asshole! Do you honestly think I’d be fucking Brad in a shared sleeping area ten paces away from you?”

“It’s not any of my business what you do anymore,” Ryan replied mulishly.

“No, it isn’t. But I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Why him, Col?” Ryan asked abruptly, tossing his cigarette away and straightening up. It was the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since the wedding. “Why choose Brad?”

“Because he was there for me,” Colin shot back, his words cutting through Ryan like a knife. “He’s always been there for me, and he’s not afraid to let me in.”

“Meaning?” 

“You always kept me at a distance when things got difficult, Ryan—always this stupid macho bullshit. Christ, I _knew_ there was something wrong before you left but instead of talking to me about it, you pushed me away and shut me out. Brad may have his faults, but he’s always been completely open with me.”

“He’s a real hero,” Ryan said, sarcasm dripping from every word. He felt a savage kind of pleasure in attacking Brad. 

Colin shook his head helplessly. “I can’t talk to you like this.” He moved past Ryan, walking away towards the others.

“Nice going, man,” Greg said behind him. He was standing in the doorway, cup of coffee in hand. “You keep pushing him away… there’ll come a day when he won’t come back.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Greg,” Ryan snapped, turning to go back inside.

“No, but I’ll give it to you for free. If you want to keep Colin in your life, then get your head out of your ass and start being the friend he deserves. If you’re not prepared to do that, then get the fuck out of _his_ life for good.” As Ryan drew level with him, Greg put an arm across the door, barring his path and forcing his attention. “I meant what I said before, Ry; hurt him again and we’ll take you down.”

Ryan gave him a stony look and pushed past, heading for his uncomfortable berth and wishing he had a stiff drink.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new chapter. Thank you to everyone who's been commenting - you're keeping me going. x

“Okay, I need a couple of audience members for this next game so Jeff will be coming down to pick our two victims.” Drew broke into a wide grin. “Just kidding, it’s all voluntary. Put your hands up if you’d like to play.”

Jeff walked up the aisle, carefully perusing his options.

“In your own time, Jeff,” Chip called good-naturedly after a minute or so. “The six of us standing here doing nothing makes great comedy.”

“It’s all part of the magic, Chip,” Jeff called back over his shoulder.

“I’ll take… you,” Jeff pointed to a younger man, in his late teens/early twenties, who was surrounded by a group of male friends. They roared their approval as he immediately jumped out of his seat. “And… you!” Jeff continued, choosing a middle-aged woman a couple of rows further up. “Give them a round of applause everyone,” he added, leading them up to the stage.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Drew smiled, shaking their hands. “Now, you two are going to help us play a little game called Moving Bodies.” He paused as the crowd cheered. “Chip and Colin are going to be playing this game but the trick is they can’t move by themselves. You have to do all their movements for them. Okay? It’s really fun.”

Ryan tuned out the rest of Drew’s intro, sipping from a bottle of water. It was nearing the end of the evening and he was hot and tired, plus the whole show hadn’t felt as comfortable as usual. Every performer was being totally professional, but the dark cloud from their earlier argument was preventing that spark of magic from catching light.

A burst of laughter drew his attention to the scene in progress. He’d missed the set up, but it seemed to be something to do with a cop apprehending a criminal. Colin was pointing his finger like a gun at Chip, who had his hands up.

“I didn’t do it, man!”

“Oh, please,” Colin scoffed. “The diamond necklace is dangling from your hand!”

As Ryan watched the scene unfold, his gaze was drawn more and more towards the man moving Colin. There was something _off_ about the way he was acting. What was more, his movement of Colin was getting increasingly rough and Ryan could see the discomfort through Colin’s improvisation. In the past they’d had movers who had got a little cocky, cases of stage bravado, but this was something else. When the mover turned Colin around, Ryan got a clear look at his face and the pieces fell into place. Whether it was through drink or drugs, this man was high as a kite. And Ryan wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

“Man, he’s shit-faced,” Greg muttered, leaning in. “You think we need to step in?”

Ryan shook his head, knowing that Colin wouldn’t thank them for it. “Not yet. Let’s just see if we can get this game done quickly without causing a scene.” He glanced down the line of stools at Jeff, who also looked concerned, and then at Brad, who was positively glaring at the man. Drew was standing next to them, watching the scene closely, and Ryan could see that he was also ready to step in. The only people who couldn’t see anything amiss was the audience, who were laughing just as hard as they’d been all night, although a couple of people in the front row wore slightly quizzical expressions. The group of friends that the man had been sitting with was roaring the loudest, clearly egging the man on.

Ryan continued to watch the game, his eyes fixed on Colin, the tightly coiled knot of tension in his stomach ready to spring free the moment Colin’s mover crossed the line. A couple of minutes passed and he began to think that they’d dodged the bullet; the game was drawing to a natural conclusion. But then Chip was pretending to run away and Colin’s mover got frustrated with the pursuit, giving up hitting the back of Colin’s legs in favor of a full blown kick… Colin went down, unable to prevent a cry of pain, and then everything went to hell.

Ryan and Brad were on his mover in seconds and, in that one brief moment, they were absolutely united. Ryan fully intended to rip the guy limb from limb. Jeff and Drew ran forward to try to restrain them, Drew yelling for security, but one of Ryan’s fists got through and caught the man squarely on the chin with the force of a freight train. He dropped like a stone. And then his friends were on stage too, shoving and yelling abuse.

Greg helped Colin back onto his feet, a supporting arm around his waist. He was assisted by Chip, who had gone straight to Colin’s side the moment he’d seen him on the floor, all thoughts of the game and the show forgotten. Colin didn’t seem to care about his own physical injuries; all his attention was focused on trying to stop the fight, but his pleas were swallowed amidst the chaos.

A security contingent finally arrived seconds later, hauling the mob out of there along with their barely conscious friend, leaving Drew to quickly call an end to the show.

“Fuck, man, that was batshit crazy,” Greg exclaimed as they entered the green room backstage, minus Drew who was dealing with the audience, and most probably chewing his security team out for their slack response.

Colin gingerly sank down onto the couch nearest the door, and was quickly surrounded by his concerned cast mates.

“We should really get you checked out by a doctor, Col,” Brad said as he joined Colin on the couch, resting a hand on his back.

Colin shook his head, managing a small but reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit bruised, I think. You really didn’t need to start a fight.”

“ _He_ started it,” Ryan muttered. His anger was still bubbling quietly beneath the surface; the man got off easy in his opinion. Colin glanced his way, an amused if not entirely approving glint in his eyes.

“In any case,” he continued, “an early night should sort me out.”

“Okay,” Drew announced, walking into the room, “I’ve told them that, given the circumstances, we won’t be doing a meet and greet tonight.”

“I bet that went down well,” Jeff said with a grimace.

Drew shrugged in an ‘ _I don’t give a fuck_ ’ kind of way. “I managed to dodge the heavy stuff.” His gaze dropped down to Colin. “You okay, man?”

Colin nodded. “I’ll live.”

Chip grabbed three bottles of water from a side table, passing one of them to Colin and the other to Jeff. “Well, as far as drama goes, they can’t say they didn’t get their money’s worth.”

Jeff opened his bottle and raised it in a mock toast. “God bless Texas.”

 

They decided it would be best to kill some time in the green room before leaving the theater, to allow the majority of fans to head home. As it turned out, there were still a few hopefuls remaining by the stage door, but Greg, Chip and Jeff appeased them with a few minutes of autographs and photos so that the rest of the cast could leave without being accosted.

Ryan fumbled for his cigarettes as he walked along the shadowy exterior wall of the building behind Colin and Brad. He hadn’t been allowed to smoke in the theatre and his brain was screaming for a fix. There was no relief from the heat though; apparently it had rained at some point during the show, which had only increased the humidity. It was like stepping into a rainforest but without the lush green panorama, replaced by hard surfaces and straight lines.

Reaching the street first, Brad murmured something to Colin and disappeared round the corner. Ryan wordlessly drew alongside Colin and they headed in the opposite direction, towards the tour bus parked a little way down the street; it had been far too big for the theater’s modest parking lot.

“Some night, huh?” Colin commented. Ryan noticed that he was limping ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, taking a drag. “Where did Brad go?”

“To find a drug store for some Tylenol. I told him not to bother, but…” he shrugged, trailing off.

“No, you should take something.”

For some reason, his words made Colin snort softly.

“What?” He frowned.

“Nothing,” Colin shook his head, smiling. “It’s just… you’re agreeing with Brad?”

Ryan smirked around his cigarette. “It has been known to happen.”

“So how’s your hand?” Colin asked, stepping off the curb. The tour bus was parked just across from them, illuminated by a street light. The light bled outwards across the dark, wet road.

Ryan had only taken a step after him when a roar made him pause and look up the street. Two headlights had swung out onto the road and were hurtling towards them, at a speed that far exceeded the limit. The cigarette tumbled from Ryan’s mouth as he looked from the car to Colin, who was only now beginning to turn his head curiously.

His heart and lungs suddenly compressed by the dawning realization of what was about to happen, Ryan dashed forward. He shouted something—he couldn’t say what—but then his hand made contact with Colin’s back and he shoved hard, knocking Colin forwards. The next second he was flying. The world tipped upside-down, jeers and laughter filled the air, and then a blinding pain shot up the left side of his body, exploding in his head.

“Ryan!”

He opened his eyes. Colin’s distraught face was above him, swimming in and out of focus and framed by stars. Ryan tried to move, but something was holding him down. “No, stay still; I’ll call for help.”

Another shout echoed in the silence—a familiar voice—and Colin turned away, his mouth moving urgently. Ryan could hear the sound but not the words; it was as if he was underwater. He looked up at the clouds scudding across the sky, making the stars blink off and on… off and on…


	12. Chapter 12

“Can you remember anything else, sir?”

Ryan attempted to pick through his memories one last time for something he might have missed, but there were only flashes. Mostly it was just a blur, and thinking was making his head throb even more. “No. It all happened too fast.”

“I’m willing to bet it was those assholes from the show,” Greg muttered with an expression of murderous intent.

The police officer at Ryan’s bedside looked to Colin, who was sitting closest to him. “But you didn’t see who was in the car as they passed?”

Colin shook his head grimly. “I was only looking at Ryan.” The hand that was holding Ryan’s, that had stayed wrapped around it since they’d brought him in, squeezed reflexively.

Ryan exerted a gentle, reassuring pressure back. His other hand was resting across his chest, the arm above covered in a fresh white plaster cast and enclosed in a sling, and his head was bandaged. The doctor had told him that he’d been extremely lucky; apparently he’d been clipped by the edge of the car rather than taking the full force, which most likely would have killed him. As it was, he’d broken both bones in his lower right arm and had hit his head on the hard asphalt, resulting in concussion, not to mention the severe bruising that would become apparent in the coming days. He’d been advised to stay in hospital overnight for observation, but he had no intention of doing so.

“Okay, we have a fair amount of information to go on,” the cop said, stowing his pen and notebook in his jacket pocket. “But give me a call if you remember anything else.”

“We will,” Colin nodded. “Thank you.”

“Say the word and I’ll suddenly remember seeing those assholes in the car,” Greg said the moment they were alone.

“Greg,” Colin said in soft admonishment, “we don’t know for sure it was them.”

“Well, I know I want to get out of here. Can you pass my clothes, Col?”

Colin hesitated. “Maybe you _should_ stay here tonight, Ry.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan insisted. “I can rest just as well on the bus, probably better—anything’s got to be more comfortable than this bed.”

“I’ll go round up the troops,” Greg said, deciding to leave them to it. “They’ve probably emptied the vending machines by now.”

Ryan only gave him a distracted nod as he swung his legs out of bed and fixed Colin with a look. “So, are you going to help me or am I going to have to do this myself?”

Colin held his gaze and then sighed, snatching his clothes from an adjacent chair. “I’ll help you. But you have to tell me if your symptoms get worse, okay?”

“Yes, nurse.” Ryan was already attempting to pull his hospital gown off one-handed. “How the fuck are you supposed to get out of these things?”

“Stay still,” Colin instructed, leaning over to untie the gown at the back. The tips of his fingers skimmed Ryan’s flesh, making it tingle pleasantly, and Ryan had to resist the temptation to lean into Colin’s warmth.

“Just as well it doesn’t have to go over your head,” Colin joked, eyeing the heavy bandages. He gently pulled the gown down to pool around Ryan’s waist and retrieved his shirt.

Ryan sat quietly while his shirt was pulled on and the buttons fastened, studying Colin’s face. He was only a breath away, a slight frown of concentration creasing his brow, completely intent on his task. Ryan saw the road again, the headlights, the screech of tires. If he’d been a few seconds slower, a few paces further away… the idea was too terrible to contemplate. Instead he drank in the view of Colin before him, healthy and whole. Perhaps sensing the scrutiny, Colin’s gaze flicked up to Ryan’s as his fingers slid the last button into place and stayed there, resting over his heart.

“Thanks,” Ryan murmured.

“I think that’s my line,” Colin said. The smile that appeared with his words vanished almost as quickly, replaced with a sober expression. “It should have been me, would have been if you hadn’t—“

“I think you’ve been injured enough tonight,” Ryan cut in. “And honestly? With everything that’s gone on, it was a fair trade.”

“Don’t,” Colin said, his soft voice belied by eyes suddenly alight with a fierce passion. “Don’t think for a _minute_ that your life is less important than mine… I don’t want to lose you again, Ryan…”

Without conscious thought, Ryan’s hand moved up to cover Colin’s; they still held each other’s gaze, and everything else faded into insignificance. Ryan could feel his heart beating against their joined hands.

“Ryan?” Drew called loudly through the door. “You decent?”

His voice had the effect of cold water poured over them. Colin pulled his hand out of Ryan’s grasp, instantly regaining his composure, and turned to pass the rest of his clothes. Ryan felt a pain in his chest unrelated to his injuries.

“Give me a minute, Drew,” he called back tonelessly.

Colin stayed, helping him into the remainder of his clothes with an air of someone assisting a friend or relative, politely averting his eyes when the hospital gown slipped to the floor as Ryan pulled on his underwear. The intimacy that had lived and breathed between them only moments before had vanished.

“I hear you’re breaking out of this joint,” Drew said when Ryan finally allowed him in. “You sure you’re up to it?”

“I’ll live,” Ryan murmured, tossing the gown onto the bed. “We’ve got a tour to do, right?”

Drew held his hands up. “Hey, man, if you’re not up to it we can make do without you for a while.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said firmly, forcing himself to walk out of the room without too much of a limp, despite the considerable pain in his left hip. Drew turned and walked with him, Colin a step behind. “Just keep me out of Moving Bodies and Freeze Tag for a while, okay?”

“You got it.”

 

Ryan gingerly shifted position on the couch, wincing as various parts of his body protested, and resumed his idle flicking through various TV channels. At almost two in the morning he was the only one up apart from Mike, the thrum of the engine a steady background noise as the bus pushed on through the night towards their next destination. Ryan had attempted to sleep but had given it up as a bad job; his head was still throbbing, his muscles protesting their brutal treatment by metal and asphalt, and the slightest movement sent shooting pains up and down his broken arm.

Truth be told, Ryan was glad of the time to himself. There was little to be had when you were on tour, and his injuries had garnered even more attention since his return from the hospital—something he wasn’t enjoying in the slightest. He’d always been notoriously bad tempered when forced to deal with sickness and injuries of any kind, or anything that was out of his control.

Sports replays, home shopping, more home shopping, cartoons, some old black and white movie… Ryan left it on that, tossing the remote aside. What he really needed was a cigarette, but Drew had been absolutely clear on that score; no smoking on the bus. He’d specifically included smoking pot in that rule, much to Greg’s chagrin. Ryan could probably have done with that right now, too.

He was contemplating the feasibility of sneaking a smoke out of an open window when he heard someone padding out of the sleeping area. Ryan half expected Drew to appear, shaking the rules list at him, but it turned out to be Brad going to get a glass of water. Turning to head back to bed, Brad caught sign of Ryan, hesitated, and then took a few steps towards him.

“Can’t sleep?”

Ryan bit back the caustic reply that flew to his tongue, settling instead on a simple, “No.”

“I’ve got a whole load of Tylenol if you want,” Brad offered, hooking a thumb back over his shoulder.

Ryan started to shake his head and instantly regretted it, clenching his jaw against a fresh wave of dizzying pain. “No, I’m maxed out on prescription strength stuff. Thanks anyway,” he added, in deference to the effort Brad was making.

Brad nodded once and had half turned, ready to retrace his steps, when he paused and looked back. “Hey, Ryan… _thank you_ … for what you did tonight.”

Reaching for the remote again, Ryan glanced up at him. “You would have done the same if you’d been there.”

“Yes, I would. But I _wasn’t_ there… and I should have been,” he added quietly. “Look,” he continued in a firmer voice, abruptly sitting down on the corner edge of the couch, “I know I haven’t exactly been welcoming.” He paused, probably expecting Ryan to scoff loudly at this understatement. Ryan resisted. “I thought you’d only end up hurting Colin again, but if you hadn’t been there tonight we both could have lost him. I want you to know that I appreciate that… and, if we’re both in agreement that Colin is the most important person here, I don’t see why we can’t get along for the next few months.”

Ryan considered him for several long moments. Then he settled back in his seat and said, “You want to sneak a smoke out of the window?”

A slow grin spread across Brad’s face. “Breaking Drew’s rules? Count me in.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. I'm afraid I can't guarantee timely updates, but I still hope to finish this story.

They arrived in Denver later that week, ready for two shows across the weekend, with Kathy Greenwood joining them. As if that wasn’t enough to raise spirits, as soon as they stepped off the bus, Drew gestured grandly to the building in front of them.

“Your accommodation for the next two nights.”

Chip tilted his head up to look at it and whistled appreciatively. “The Four Seasons? Nice.”

Drew shrugged. “You all deserve a proper bed this weekend, and this place comes highly recommended.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Greg said, clapping Drew on the back before striding inside without another word.

“Bags, Greg!” Jeff called after him. He rolled his eyes when he got no response. “Well, I’m not being his bellhop.”

Chip swatted him lightly in the stomach with the back of his hand, turning back to the bus with a grin. “You can be mine instead.”

“As long as I get paid for my work.”

“We’ll get to that later,” Chip winked, disappearing inside. Jeff stumbled back onto the bus after him.

As befitting his usual generosity, Drew had reserved rooms on the top floor for all of them. Ryan’s was probably three times the size of the tour bus and then some. He threw his bag onto the overly large bed and wandered out onto the balcony. The city lay sprawled beneath him, gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, the mountains rising majestically in the distance. Ryan settled down in a padded chair with a cigarette, idly watching the hundreds of small people and small cars scurry about below. 

A twinge in his injured arm forced him to shift position, but he couldn’t get comfortable. The sling that was supporting it was now more of a hindrance than a help, constantly getting in his way. Cursing, he threw his cigarette away and pulled roughly at the knot behind his neck. He let out a sigh of relief as it came loose and gave way, able to gingerly stretch his arm out. Without the sling, he could see the criss-cross of scrawled messages covering every inch of the now discolored plaster cast. He ran his fingers across one in particular, as he had done many times, the handwriting as familiar as his own. It was only two words – _My hero_ – but they meant more than any other inscription. He was still sitting there when Drew knocked twenty minutes later to tell him that the group was heading out for dinner.

 

There was an abundance of restaurants in the city. For the cast, having been confined to small towns and theaters for several weeks, it was like going from famine to feast. They settled eventually in an expensive looking Italian place a few blocks from their hotel. It was still fairly early so the restaurant wasn’t too crowded, minimizing the risk of repeated interruptions by fans.

“Man, I could eat the whole damn menu,” Greg said, with what could almost have been a moan.

It did look good, Ryan had to admit. He was already salivating just looking through all of the tempting options. In the end, he went for the cannelloni—an old favorite that he hadn’t had for a long time. By the nature of his job, his diet had mostly consisted of seafood in recent years.

It wasn’t until the food arrived that Ryan realized his mistake. Over the past week, he’d been sticking to dishes he could easily eat one-handed. This one was entirely more problematic—not only needing to be cut into pieces, but also covered in thick sauce, which required a lot more manual dexterity than he was currently capable of with only his left hand. Still, Ryan wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He awkwardly tried to cut the pasta with the edge of his fork, managing to get a decent-sized piece after several attempts. When he tried to scoop it onto his fork, however, the mouthful promptly ended up slopping over the edge of his plate and onto the floor. “Fuck!”

Colin looked up and immediately reached across to take the offending utensils. “Here, let me.”

For a second, Ryan’s pride urged him to snatch them back, but he managed to overcome the temptation. This was Colin, not some patronizing nurse, and besides, he was hungry. “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Colin replied easily.

“Hey, Colin? You’re supposed to stand behind him for Helping Hands, remember?” Jeff called from the end of the table. From the _oomph_ that followed, Ryan deduced that Chip had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Having some trouble there, big guy?” Greg chimed in, sitting opposite and smirking around his mouthful of wine. “Be sure to watch out for the airplane and open wide!”

“There’s only a bird,” Ryan countered, casually flipping Greg the middle finger of his good hand.

Greg gave him a shit-eating grin, prodding at his spaghetti for a moment with an expression of discontent before piping up with, “Hey Col, can you cut mine up for me too?”

Colin snorted, cleanly slicing through the final chunk of pasta to leave perfect bite-sized pieces. “No, not unless _you_ get hit by a car.”

“Anything for you, man.”

“Yeah, I’ll be driving,” Ryan muttered. He caught Colin’s grin before he turned away and felt his irritation dissolve.

 

The group parted ways after dinner, with most heading off into the night to check out more of the city—or more specifically, its bars. Unable to consume alcohol due to the pain meds he was on, Ryan returned to the hotel. Since it was too early to attempt sleep, he perused the options open to him there. Outdoor pool? No. Gym? Hell no. Remembering the doctor’s strict instructions to avoid saunas of any kind, where the intense heat and humidity would weaken his cast, Ryan likewise skipped over the steam room option. He could, however, pay a visit to the hotel hot tub instead, where he could relax the majority of his body while keeping his arm safely out of the water. 

Decision made, he changed into a pair of shorts—which took much longer than it should have because he had to navigate around his cast—and then threw a robe on over the top. When he finally located the hot tub room, after going through just about every other facility first, there was already one occupant. And Ryan recognized the profile immediately. It seemed his plan might be destined for immediate failure.

“Sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks as Colin turned his head. “You want me to…?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door to complete the question.

“No, it’s fine,” Colin said with only the barest hesitation, adding a reassuring smile. “Come on in.”

Tossing his towel onto a bench, Ryan lowered his lower half slowly into the bubbling water with a soft sigh, carefully resting his broken arm along the top of the tub.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Perfect,” Ryan replied, his muscles already starting to relax. “Where are the others?” he asked after a moment. By others, he was of course mostly referring to Brad. 

Colin gave him one of those looks that felt like all of his thoughts were laid bare, but didn’t comment. Instead, he smiled and said, “Probably still drinking each other under the table. I prefer to take advantage of the hotel facilities while we have them.”

“Me too,” Ryan agreed, and then immediately let out a huff of laughter. “Jesus, listen to us.”

“We’re getting old.”

“Well, you’re getting there quicker,” Ryan pointed out with a smirk. The next moment later he had a face full of water. He spluttered, wiping his good hand across his face, trying his best to look indignant but unable to keep from grinning like a kid. As soon as his vision cleared, he could see Colin grinning right back at him. “You know, it’s poor form to attack the man that saved your life.”

“Exactly how long are you planning on using that against me?”

Ryan shrugged his good shoulder. “I figure it’s good for a few years at least.”

“Uh-huh.” Colin shook his head, smiling, and leant back against the edge of the tub, raising his arms to rest on the edge as his eyes closed.

For the first time since he walked back into Colin’s life, Ryan felt able to let his gaze wander freely over him without worrying about crossing some invisible boundary. There was perhaps a little less hair on his head, but the rest of Colin’s body—what Ryan could see of it anyway—looked like it hadn’t aged a day. It was strange being faced with that familiarity, stirring memories he’d tucked away long ago… swirling his tongue around that nipple… latching onto the pale column of Colin’s neck and grinning against his pulse as Colin had laughed and tried to squirm away.

Those images, combined with the close proximity, only served to stir other things. It wasn’t surprising that his body was reacting—it had been so long since he’d been with anyone in that way—but the last thing he needed was Colin to see it and the awkwardness to return between them. Trying to think of something safer, Ryan shifted in his seat, attempting to shield himself from Colin’s gaze should he open his eyes. Unfortunately he only succeeded in losing his balance, forcing himself to clamp onto the side with his bad arm. His yelp of pain caused Colin’s eyes to shoot open.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Ryan lied, trying to breathe through the waves of pain. “I just knocked my arm… I guess this was a bad idea.” _All round_ , he added inwardly. 

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No,” Ryan replied a little too quickly. “Thanks, though,” he amended, softening the response. “I’ll just take some meds and call it a night.” 

He carefully stood up and climbed out of the tub, grabbing a towel with his good hand. The sharp dose of pain, now fading to a throbbing ache, had at least achieved one thing; it had killed his arousal completely. Perhaps it had been a sign. Or a warning.

As Ryan wearily returned to his room, he couldn’t help but wonder if joining the tour had been a huge mistake after all; because, no matter how good his intentions may have been, he was now in real danger of losing his heart, and himself, all over again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the horribly long delay in updating this story. As you can see, I haven't abandoned it. This year has just been really bad for writing.
> 
> To everyone who's stayed with me, thank you. I appreciate your patience. <3

“...And for two nights here in Denver, we have our very own Kathy Greenwood!”

The applause swelled briefly as Kathy walked onstage to join the rest of the cast, smiling and waving to the audience. Her blonde hair was a little shorter, but she’d hardly changed at all.

“That’s right,” Drew continued as it finally subsided. “And let me tell you, Colin’s particularly happy about not having to play the woman tonight.” He grinned at Colin, who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Ryan stood on Colin’s left, a smile plastered on his face, ready to engage in cheerful banter should the need arise. No one needed to know that he had essentially been avoiding Colin since they’d shared that hot tub. He’d figured it was better for everyone if he kept his distance for the remainder of the tour. 

That’s not to say that no one had noticed; Colin had definitely sensed that something was amiss, and he’d been constantly throwing Ryan searching looks during the technical run-through that afternoon. Ryan pretended not to see them, but he wasn’t sure how long that would work for. Knowing Colin, probably not long.

The only good thing about having a broken arm was being able to avoid many of the more physical games, which meant spending even less time close to Colin. Instead, he spent a good portion of the show sitting on his stool at the back of the stage, simply watching proceedings. Tonight they went through Freeze Tag, Song Styles, and Moving People before it was time for Ryan to leave his seat.

“Now our not-so-glamorous assistant is going to come down to the audience to choose a couple of volunteers for this next game,” Drew announced as the applause subsided. “We have to make him useful somehow,” he quipped, grinning at Ryan who casually flipped him the bird with his good hand as he descended the short flight of steps from the stage. “So if you’re happy to play, raise your hand!”

Walking up the nearest aisle, Ryan gaze wandered over the array of hopeful faces. He deliberately ignored the volunteers that looked like they were either too desperate or they’d been drinking, settling instead for a fairly steady-looking couple further back. 

“Hi, what are your names?” Drew asked, moving forward to shake their hands as Ryan led them onstage.

Ryan didn’t hear the answers, too intent on avoiding Colin’s eye as he returned to his stool. Drew had it covered anyway.

“Chris and Doreen! Welcome! Now you two are going to help us play a little game called Sound Effects.” He paused as the crowd cheered, grabbing two handheld mics and handing them over. “Here, have a microphone each. Okay, Greg and Colin are going to be playing this game and you’ll be providing all the sound effects for the scene; Chris, you’ll be doing the sound effects for Greg, and, Doreen, you’ll be doing the sound effects for Colin.” Greg and Colin, who were patiently waiting at the front of the stage, raised a hand in turn to give a little wave. “Okay?”

Their nods were accompanied by rather nervous smiles.

“Great! Now...” Drew turned back to the audience. “Can I have a suggestion for a fairytale?”

Predictably, the air was immediately filled with voices cutting across each other. Drew honed in on a woman near the front.

“Sleeping Beauty! Okay, let’s go with that. Greg, you’re the prince, which means Colin—“ Drew broke off, laughing at Colin’s look of resignation. “Sorry, buddy, looks like one slipped through the net. But you get to be beautiful, right?”

“Yeah... great,” Colin replied with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Take it away!”

Colin instantly closed his eyes and pretended to be in a reclining position, while Greg entered the room through an imaginary door.

“Sleeping beauty!” He exclaimed. “At last I have found you!”

A loud snore erupted from the side of the stage, prompting the first bout of laughter from the audience.

“Yep, definitely sleeping!” 

Greg moved to Colin’s side, leaning in to get a better look. “Wow, you’re a lot balder than your picture,” he remarked, smirking as Colin covertly flipped him the finger. “And you seem to have an unfortunate twitch in your hand. But never mind that; let me wake you with a kiss.”

An exaggerated kissing noise erupted before Greg even had the chance to lean in. The audience erupted in more laughter.

Colin opened his eyes, looking panicked. “What was that?”

“Sorry, I have an unfortunate premature-kissing problem.”

“You should get that looked at.”

“I will, but right now we need to escape this tower on my noble steed.”

“Clip clop clip clop!”

Colin looked around in surprise. “Hey, how did the horse climb up the tower?”

“Never mind that, let’s get on him and make our escape.”

There was a soft whoosh of air, turning Colin’s expression awkward. “Sorry, I guess my digestive system just kicked in.”

Their sound effect artists were barely holding it together now and the mics picked up their laughter, which only fueled the audience’s enjoyment.

Greg put up a hand. “Listen! Do you hear that laughter?”

“It could be the evil laugh of whoever put me here,” Colin said, looking around fearfully.

“Let’s get out of here!” Greg said, quickly leading the way out of the tower.

“Look out!” Colin cried, pointing. “There’s a dragon behind you!”

A soft chirrup came from the side of the stage.

“A really small dragon,” Colin amended, pulling a quizzical expression that had the audience roaring harder.

“Fear not, princess!” Greg said melodramatically. “I shall take care of the midget dragon with my trusty sword of truth!” He mimed withdrawing it from his sheath.

“Shhhhh.”

Greg peered at it, frowning. “Huh, it also seems to be a water fountain.”

“Quickly!” Colin put a hand on his arm. “Douse the dragon’s fire with your magic water sword!”

“Oka—“ 

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Oh, it heard you!“

The rest of the sound effect was obliterated by the audience’s laughter.

Colin put a finger to his lips. “Shh! The sword wants you to be quiet.”

“This is the land of quiet,” Greg whispered, tiptoeing across the stage. “Here,” he bent down, “you take this rock.”

There was a sudden choked kind of screech.

“Shit, I just stepped on the dragon.”

“Colin and Greg everybody!” Drew called into the laughter, buzzing to end the game, and there was a deafening roar of applause.

Sharing a grin, Colin and Greg went over to thank their respective audience members.

 

The rest of the evening went just as well, which felt like a good omen after the troubles they’d come through, and the cast were in high spirits afterwards. Ryan wasn’t immune to the elation that came from a good show—he’d enjoyed his time on the stage as much as anyone else—but he still headed back to the hotel at the earliest opportunity. He closed the door behind him and sagged against it, feeling some hidden tension ease from his body. But he’d barely been there five minutes before someone came knocking. There was always a chance it was Drew, but Ryan had a feeling that the universe wasn’t going to let him off that easy. And he was right.

“Hey,” Colin said, offering a smile as he came into view. “We’re all heading out to a bar. You want to come?”

Ryan raised his plastered arm. “Can’t have alcohol, remember?”

“I’m pretty sure most bars still sell non-alcoholic drinks, too, Ry.”

Ryan sighed inwardly at the easy way his old nickname fell from Colin’s lips, still laced with affection after everything that had happened. “Yeah, but I’m pretty whacked. I think I’ll call it a night.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Have fun, though.”

Rather than turning around and leaving, Colin continued to study Ryan’s face with the trace of a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You’ve seemed off the past few days. I just wondered if... never mind.” Colin shook his head. He took half a step away before abruptly turning back. Ryan braced himself for further interrogation, but to his surprise, Colin simply pulled something out of his pocket. “Oh, here, you left this in the green room.”

Looking closer, Ryan realized that it was his tie—the tie he’d tossed onto a chair after the show and forgotten about. “Thanks.”

Somewhere between Ryan reaching out to take it and Colin handing it over, the tie slipped out of both of their grasps and landed on the floor. Ryan automatically went to retrieve it and pulled up sharply at the painful spasm that lanced across his lower back. Colin cottoned on immediately, keeping his eyes on Ryan as he scooped up the offending garment from the carpet.

“Your back?”

Ryan nodded stiffly, breathing heavily through the waves of pain. He didn’t even notice that Colin had reached out to steady him until his fingers exerted gentle pressure on his upper arm to turn him around.

“Come on, let’s get you on the bed.” 

Ryan’s internal groan had nothing to do with the pain. Having Colin in his room was a spectacularly bad idea. But he was hardly in a position to protest, and judging by the look on Colin’s face, he would have steamrolled any objections regardless.

“Easy,” Colin said, pressing close enough for Ryan to smell his cologne as he carefully lowered him down onto the sheets.

Lying down was better, although the pain persisted. Still, Ryan forced a smile. “Thanks. You can go, I’ll be okay.”

Colin looked doubtful. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I—“ Ryan made the mistake of shifting slightly to look over at him, and the rest of the sentence was stolen by the most painful spasm yet.

“No, you won’t.” Colin was instantly at his side. “Here.” Ryan had to grit his teeth as he was carefully rolled over onto his front, but relief was swift. Colin had always been able to work magic on his bad back, and he hadn’t lost his touch. Warm fingers worked their way across the muscles at the base of his spine, gently kneading out the tension. As it gradually dissipated, along with the worst of the pain, Ryan became aware of another part of his body hardening in its place and bit back a groan. 

It wasn’t surprising. Often, in years past, massages like these had led to more carnal pleasures. It was times like those that Colin took control, riding Ryan into a blissful orgasm that eased his pain better than any pill. Ryan tried to clamp down on those thoughts, but it wasn’t easy when Colin’s hands were all over him just as he remembered. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, thinking that maybe if he faked sleep, Colin wouldn’t feel compelled to stay.

“Still the same back issues, huh?”

Having only had his eyes closed for a matter of seconds, Ryan had no choice but to answer. “Yeah.”

“Drew said you were a fisherman? In Alaska?”

“More of a guide really, taking tourists out; nothing too strenuous.”

“Did—do you have… anyone special up there?”Colin’s voice was carefully casual, but Ryan could tell it was something that had been on his mind.

“Just friends.”

They remained silent after that and Ryan was on the point of falling asleep for real when the soothing warmth of Colin’s palms retreated.

“Better?”

Ryan hummed, cracking one eye open. “Much. Thanks.”

With a nod, Colin turned to go. Recognizing that it could potentially be his last opportunity to speak freely, Ryan reached out to catch his hand. “Col.” He waited for Colin to look back, noting the hint of cautiousness suffusing his gaze, noting also that he didn’t remove his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being more forgiving than I deserve? You always were the better man.”

Colin huffed a laugh before gently extracting his hand. “I think you’re giving me a little too much credit. I haven’t forgiven you, Ryan; not fully. It’s just not that easy.” Some of the weight returned to settle at the bottom of Ryan’s stomach, the familiar tendrils of guilt coiling and tightening around his heart. “But I’m trying my best to keep the past from tarnishing my present and future. You should do the same.”

Ryan swallowed, dropping his gaze to fix on a spot across the room. “Yeah… I’m trying.”

Giving him a small smile, Colin headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, his hand resting on the handle as he looked back. “You know, despite everything, I want you to be happy. That hasn’t changed.”

Ryan bit back a humorless laugh as the door clicked shut. What Colin didn’t seem to realize was that most of Ryan’s happiness was still wrapped up in _him_. And it probably always would be.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new chapter! Apologies for the terribly long wait. Again. :\

Ryan didn’t realize that he’d actually fallen asleep where Colin had left him until later that night, when he’d woken disorientated and alone. The pain in his back had lessened considerably—enough for him to change out of his clothes, grab a glass of water, and slide into bed. A quick glance at his watch told him that he’d been asleep for at least a couple of hours, and yet somehow he could still feel Colin’s fingers on his skin as he drifted back to sleep.

By the following morning, there was only a dull ache in his lower spine to remind him of the injury. Any remaining tightness eased gradually with movement as Ryan carefully washed and dressed.

All but a few of the cast were already at breakfast when Ryan joined them; most simply nodded in his direction, acknowledging his arrival as they continued their conversations, but Colin reached for the coffee and poured him a cup.

“How’s your back?”

“Better,” Ryan said, flashing a grateful smile for both the coffee and the concern. “Thanks.”

“Been trying to break something else, have you, Ry?” Greg asked as he slid into the seat next to him. “I hope you weren’t being a hero again, because you’re gonna need spandex and a cape if you keep that up.”

“Keep your fantasies out of this, Greg.”

Greg gave him a toothy grin and reached for the pot of coffee that Colin had just set down.

 

Ryan was just finishing up his stack of pancakes, thankfully easy to eat one-handed, when Drew rapped on the table.

“Okay, guys and girls, listen up. We’ve been asked to do a group interview this afternoon for a few members of the press.” He paused as there was a collective groan. “Yeah, I know no one here likes doing them particularly—hey, neither do I—but since we’re doing this whole thing for charity, I don’t want to pass up this opportunity to get the word out and hopefully bring in some more donations. So can I count on all of you to be there?”

“We can’t exactly say no to that, can we?” Jeff said in a grumbling tone.

“Well, you _can_ ,” Chip told him. “It would just make you an asshole… which we already knew.”

Jeff gave him a lecherous grin. “What’s that about my asshole?”

Watching them, Brad looked vaguely repulsed. “Geez, Drew, you’re seriously letting these two come?”

“We already did before breakfast,” Jeff was quick to point out, but the smirk was wiped off his face the next moment by a clip round the ear from Greg. “Ow!”

“Does that include me?” Kathy asked over Jeff’s continued protest. “I kind of feel like a fraud, since I’m only joining you for a few shows.”

“Of course,” Drew said, looking more than a little relieved to get back on topic. “The more of us, the better.”

Hearing no further objections, Drew told them all to be at the theater at two thirty and breakfast resumed.

 

With a free morning to enjoy, and different things planned, the group parted ways after breakfast. Ryan declined several invitations to join various excursions, including one from Colin who was going to the aquarium with Brad. Judging by the way Brad’s expression swiftly changed from slightly aggravated to relieved, Ryan had made the right decision. He could only push Brad’s new-found goodwill so far. Instead, with no particular destination in mind, Ryan decided to take a walk and stretch his legs.

Kathy was at the front desk picking up messages as he strolled through. “Where are you off to?”

Ryan shrugged, donning a pair of sunglasses. “Not sure, really. Just thought I’d start walking and see what happens.”

“I like that idea… mind if I tag along?”

Ryan was a little surprised to find that he didn’t. “Sure.”

“Sure, you mind or—”

“Sure you can tag along,” Ryan said, flashing a grin. “I can’t guarantee how interesting it’ll be, but…”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Fresh air and sunshine will be enough. Let me just grab a few things and I’ll be right down.”

 

“I’m glad you could do this,” Kathy remarked once they’d left the hotel and started down the sunlit street. “The tour, I mean. It’s really good to see you.”

“Drew’s a hard man to say no to.”

“That I know,” she said, laughing lightly. “He kept on asking me until I caved and rescheduled some things to make this weekend.”

“It means a lot to him to have all of us here. Well, most of us,” Ryan amended. Truthfully he was a little glad that Wayne hadn’t been able to make it; he had a feeling that Wayne would have been even less forgiving than Brad, and Brad’s anger had been quite enough to deal with.

“Whose Line has played a big part in all of our lives. It seems right to honor that.”

Ryan hummed an assent; it had played a much more significant part in his life than most. It had also contributed to his downfall.

As if sensing the progression of his thoughts, Kathy gave him a searching look. “I don’t want to go into everything that happened, but can I just ask… are you doing okay now?”

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

Smiling, she took his arm. “Good.” 

True to her word, she didn’t ask anything further or bring up the subject again for the remainder of their outing.

 

The interviews that afternoon were conducted in fifteen minute segments against the backdrop of the stage, with the cast sitting on their stools. To start with, they were asked pretty standard questions—details of the tour, the charity they were raising money for, how they were finding it so far. Ryan was even starting to relax. 

Then, after the more local journalists, came a reporter from the National Enquirer. Introducing herself as Amy, she went out of her way to be friendly and extremely interested in everything they had to say. Drew lapped it up.

“You’ve been on the road for close to a month already. So how’s it going?”

“Great!” Drew said, beaming. “I mean, we’ve been playing to packed theaters across several states and so far no one’s demanded a refund.”

“And it’s the same as the TV show, right?”

“Absolutely, everything’s still made up and the points don’t matter.”

“And the games?”

“Lots of the old favorites, and even some new ones. It really is a blast.”

Amy smiled and nodded. “And for the rest of you,” she said, her eyes sweeping across their faces, “what’s it like to perform together again after such a long time?”

“It’s been great,” Greg answered, giving her a wide grin. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t been doing any improv in the interim—I’ve done a few shows with Jeff and Chip, and Colin and Brad have had their own show—but it’s amazing to have nearly everyone back together again.”

“I did try to get Wayne on board, but he’s a bigger star than me these days,” Drew joked.

“He certainly has a busy schedule,” Amy agreed with a small laugh. “And what about you, Ryan? I know you took some time away from the stage after the TV show ended. What’s it been like for you to come back?”

Ryan gave an easy shrug. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked. “The thing about improv is it’s a bit like riding a bike; you can get right back on it.”

“I’m sure,” Amy said, flashing him a smile. “But you and Colin were engaged, weren’t you? Before you disappeared from the public eye?”

The atmosphere in the room went from light and cheerful to tense in a matter of seconds. They’d been assured that personal questions were off the table, but clearly this reporter didn’t intend to respect boundaries. 

Ryan could see Colin’s jaw tighten perceptibly, and he had to work to keep his own voice steady as he attempted to deflect. “I don’t see what—“

“Well, that must have made it difficult to come back for this tour,” Amy pressed on, even leaning in slightly. “Has performing together been more challenging?”

“I think we’re getting a little off—“ Drew began, trying to intercede, but Amy cut across him. Her expression could only be described as hungry.

“Tell me, Ryan, was the breakdown of your relationship the reason why you stayed away so long? Was someone else involved?”

There was a general outcry at that, but Ryan’s voice was the loudest.

“You know what? Fuck you,” he snarled, getting to his feet and tearing off his microphone. “I’m done here.”

The last thing Ryan heard as he left the stage was the whole cast vehemently objecting to her line of questioning. There was at least some small piece of comfort in the knowledge that they still had his back.

 

Ryan roughly pushed the rear door open and strode purposefully through it into the empty alleyway beyond, his fingers already curling around the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. He gripped them a little tighter than necessary, crumpling the packet as he yanked it free, a stream of curses held behind his clenched jaw. The encounter had forcibly reminded him of his very least favorite aspect of being in the public eye—the never-ending and incredibly invasive scrutiny of the press.

He’d barely lit up and taken a drag before the door opened again. He’d expected Drew, maybe Greg, but it was Colin who poked his head around it. 

“Ryan?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answered gruffly, taking another long drag. He’d have been tempted to ignore anyone else entirely—he didn’t feel like having company—but there was an exception to every rule, and generally with him that exception was Colin. Besides, as the other person in question, Colin had every right to be as pissed about that line of questioning as Ryan. He didn’t look pissed, though, Ryan thought as Colin stepped out to join him. There was irritation there, definitely, but he looked more resigned.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Ryan lied. Colin scoffed at that, making Ryan’s lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “Okay, maybe not.” He sighed heavily. “I should have expected it really. I guess I’ve been away too long.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“But I’ll be damned if I’m going to answer those kind of questions,” Ryan growled. “ _You_ have the right to an explanation, but them?” He threw a dirty look towards the door. “Vultures, the lot of them. I don’t give a shit what they think anymore. They can make up their own stories.”

“Oh, they will,” Colin replied with grim certainty, plucking the cigarette from his lips to take a drag. “They have been for the past five years. At least now it won’t be rumors of your death.”

Ryan winced, most of the wind draining from his sails. “Saying sorry will never be enough to cover that, will it?”

Colin offered him a weak smile and half a shrug. “I know you’re sorry. I still don’t know what was going on in your head when you left, though.” He handed the cigarette back, blowing a trail of smoke upwards. “I’m not sure I want to, if I’m honest.”

Ryan glanced sideways at him. “I meant what I said. If you want to talk about it, we can.” But Colin was already shaking his head.

“Let’s leave explanations for another time, okay? I have a feeling it’ll take longer than we have now, and would be better discussed somewhere a lot more comfortable than a cold and dingy alley. Besides we have a show to prepare for, remember?” Ryan let out a low grunt as Colin turned to meet his gaze. “Ready to be funny?”

“Not really.”

Colin nudged his elbow, a smile blossoming. “Come on. Let’s show that damn reporter that we haven’t lost our magic.”

When he stepped away and held out his hand, Ryan couldn’t help but smile and take it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the horribly long wait. Again. I'm the worst at updating these days, but I _am_ still writing this.

“We’ll be right back to our documentary about a man who had to have both his left arm and left leg amputated after a terrible accident—I’m all right, Jack—in just a moment. But first, have we got something for you!”

“That we do, Colin.”

“Hearts. Where would we be without them?”

“Dead!” Ryan answered enthusiastically. “Although that would be kinda helpful if you were a vampire,” he added. “Nowhere for them to—“ he raised his hands to drive an imaginary stake into his chest, “—Pshhhh!”

“Yeah….” Colin gave him a long sideways glance. “You do know vampires aren’t real, right?”

“Ha! Tell that to my Uncle Vladimir.”

Colin shot him a look of exaggerated exasperation before continuing. “Anyway, for us mortals, where there are hearts, there are heart surgeons. And who can forget this song that hit the top of the charts in at least one country somewhere, sung by the legendary Michael Jackson along with his pet chimp Bubbles… Crack that ribcage open!”

As Jeff and Chip started to sing—or in Jeff’s case screech—Ryan looked out at the laughing faces of the audience and felt at peace. This _was_ where he belonged, and playing with Colin again, seeing that old magic reignite, was a balm that healed him like nothing else could. He no longer gave a fuck whether that reporter was somewhere amongst the crowd, or what she was writing, because it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that life had given him a way to sit here with Colin again, to goof around with him the way they used to and see him laugh. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he cherished it as the precious gift it was.

Colin turned back to Ryan as the music ended, eyes wide. “Man, I didn’t expect Bubbles to actually crack his ribcage open! That video is both musical _and_ educational!”

“It is!” Nudging Colin’s elbow, Ryan added, “Not for the faint-hearted!” He let out a short fake laugh, his expression turning serious again as soon he looked back at the audience. “But really, don’t try that at home.”

“No,” Colin agreed, equally solemn. “You know, I don’t even think that chimp was a qualified doctor.”

“Which of course brings us to our next song on this album, famously performed by Pavarotti and Madonna… The doctor’s got ahold of my heart!”

The rest of the show went just as well—so well that they ended up doing three separate curtain calls because the audience was cheering and applauding so loudly. It felt like a vindication. To top it off, on the final curtain call, Ryan spotted Amy in the third row, somewhat grudgingly applauding with the rest of them. He caught Colin’s eye, his grin widening. They’d shown her all right.

 

In the early hours of the next morning, Ryan was once again sprawled across one of the long couches in the main lounge area of the tour bus, mindlessly flicking through TV channels—most of which happened to be home shopping. He didn’t even hear anyone approach until a voice jolted him out of his stupor.

“Can’t sleep?”

Colin was standing a few feet away in sleep pants and a t shirt, a glass of water in one hand, looking adorably disheveled. 

“My bunk and I don’t get along too well.” It was something of an understatement; after the luxurious comfort of a hotel bed, the mattress on his bunk felt ten times harder and the space even more cramped.

“Yeah, they aren’t the most comfortable,” Colin said, rubbing the back of his neck. He paused for a moment, looking indecisive, and then stepped closer. “How about we continue our conversation from earlier?”

It took Ryan a few seconds to realize what he meant; when he did he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Now?”

Colin shrugged. “Sure. I mean, everyone else is asleep. We probably won’t get many opportunities like this.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” 

Ryan switched the TV off and sat up, shifting over so that Colin could sit beside him. He could feel the warmth radiating from Colin’s body despite the space between them, stirring a whole host of memories and desires. But his overriding feeling was one of anxiety. He’d had this conversation so many times in his head, but the reality of it would be far more difficult. Still, he’d resolved to answer any questions that Colin had, and he would.

“So what happened?” Colin asked softly, tentatively. “Why did you leave?”

Ryan let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to focus his thoughts. “Okay, the first thing you need to know is that I didn’t plan it. When you went out that afternoon, I never imagined for a second that it would be the last time I’d see you for five whole years. I know that doesn’t make it better, but—“ He broke off with a shrug, took another deep breath, and looked down at his hands. It was safer than looking at Colin; he didn’t want to see those hazel eyes dull with hurt.

“Looking back, though, I can see that it was inevitable that I’d reach breaking point sooner or later. For years I’d been treading water, staying afloat by grabbing hold of anything and everything I could use to cling on to. But I was all burned out—on acting, improv, _everything_. LA was—is—a blinding spotlight that I couldn’t step out of and I’d had enough. 

That afternoon, after you left, my agent happened to call three or four times about a whole bunch of things—shows, appearances, interviews. I couldn’t even bring myself to answer the phone. I went and sat in the backyard, far enough away from the phone so that I couldn’t hear it, and drank through a bunch of bottles. It got dark, and I just stayed sitting there. And I realized… I wasn’t treading water anymore. I was drowning. I’d been pretending for such a long time, and I just…” Ryan’s voice cracked as he finally looked up at Colin, tears welling in his eyes. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Colin shifted and the next thing Ryan knew, he was being held in a fierce embrace that caused a few of those tears to slip down his cheeks.

“I wasn’t pretending to love you, though,” Ryan said, pulling back a little. He needed to see Colin’s face, to make sure he understood. “You’re the only reason I held on for so long. When everything else was dragging me down into that fucking black abyss, you were the single point of light. But I knew I couldn’t hold on. I knew that if I stayed, I’d drag you down with me. And I couldn’t do that to you, Col. I _wouldn’t_.

Sighing, Colin cupped Ryan’s cheek, brushing his thumb across it, and it was all Ryan could do not to lean into his touch. “Why didn’t you at least talk to me? You know I would have done all I could to help.”

“I know,” Ryan replied with a pained smile, “but I wanted to keep you away from it; safe. I… I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Safe,” Colin repeated, a sad smile flitting across his features. He took his hand from Ryan’s face and held his arm out so that Ryan could see the scar that ran in a long jagged line from his wrist to his elbow. 

Horrified, Ryan looked up at him sharply. “You didn’t—“

Colin quickly shook his head, letting his arm fall back to his side. “No, it wasn’t deliberate. It was from the glass vase that I smashed when I read your note. I didn’t even realize I was bleeding until Greg found me.”

Ryan stared, his gut twisting as he imagined what could have happened. No wonder Greg had been so protective.

“I never meant for any of that to happen,” he said, his voice small and helpless as his guilt spiraled. “I just wanted to run, and keep running until I could breathe again. I’m sorry, Colin… I’m so sorry. Christ, I hate myself so much for doing that to you. You should hate me, too.”

Tugged back into a hug that he didn’t deserve, Ryan heard Colin’s soft but fervent reply against his ear. “I could never hate you, Ry. Never.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleven months is a ridiculously long time to wait for an update, I know, and I can only apologize. It's been a tough year. I'm sure most of you thought that I'd never continue, but I am and I still intend to finish this story. I can't guarantee it'll be this decade, but better late than never? I hope.
> 
> P.S. You may want to reread the previous chapters before this one, to remind yourselves, since it's been so long!

Despite only getting a few hours sleep, Ryan felt like a new man the next morning—or rather a man who’d had a substantial amount of the weight lifted from his shoulders. He and Colin were by no means back to how they used to be, but it felt as if the chasm separating them had narrowed considerably and it didn’t take long for others to notice how much more relaxed they were around each other.

“You two sort some stuff out?” Greg asked Ryan as he joined him by the side of the road for a cigarette. The bus had stopped for gas and everyone had taken the opportunity to get out and stretch their legs, searching for fresh supplies along the way. Having done the grocery run last time, Ryan was content to sit on a nearby grass bank and blow trails of smoke into the sky.

“We had a chat, yeah.”

“Good.”

Ryan glanced sideways at him. “Thanks for looking after him.” When Greg gave him a blank look in return, Ryan elaborated. “He told me that you found him that day. It could have been a whole different story if you hadn’t. Jesus, when I think about what could have happened…”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Greg said, lighting his cigarette, “it was an accident. And it looks a lot worse than it was. The physical injury healed quickly enough; it was the emotional wounds that took time.”

Ryan winced. “Yeah… I know.”

“Anyway, I’m glad you managed to talk things through.”

“It was overdue. We needed to set the past to rest so we could move forward. Now hopefully we can.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Ryan looked at him, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Well, you and I both know that your feelings haven’t changed. That’s gonna make it kinda difficult to happily part ways when this tour is done, don’t you think?”

Taking another drag, Ryan shrugged. “Right now I’m taking each day as it comes. You never know what’s gonna happen.”He pretended not to hear Greg’s muttered, “I have a fair idea.”

As the rest of the group started to reappear from various directions, Drew called, “Okay, folks, we’re leaving in five minutes so get your butts back onboard! Last one back has to walk.”

“My money’s on Jeff,” Greg said, getting up. “But hey, maybe if we’re quick we can lose Chip as well.”

Ryan snorted, tossing his cigarette to the ground to grind it under his heel. It was true that their soppy-in-love routine was starting to wear thin, especially within the confines of the bus, but Ryan couldn’t begrudge them that—not everyone got to experience that joy in their lives, and Ryan knew better than most that it didn’t always last.

Colin and Brad reached the bus first, the latter shooting Ryan a contemplative look as he passed. Ryan was suddenly sure that they’d been having the very same conversation that he’d had with Greg, although Brad didn’t look quite as happy about it. Perhaps he’d counted on a lingering enmity… no, that wasn’t fair. Brad had made it clear that, above all, he cared about Colin’s happiness, and Colin was clearly happier with the situation now. At the very least they were both more relaxed, and that was good for everyone.

Jeff and Chip returned with a minute to spare, causing Greg to make a vaguely disappointed noise as the door closed behind them. “So close.”

 

Ryan’s limited involvement in games only lasted a few more shows; his plaster cast was removed the following week. Part of him was a little sad to see it go—he’d grown accustomed to seeing the familiar scrawls and doodles across it, especially Colin’s—but the novelty of the cast itself had worn off quickly enough, replaced by annoyance and discomfort. Ryan didn’t hesitate when the doctor proclaimed that he could have it removed. The skin underneath was strangely soft to the touch and the newly mended bones felt disturbingly fragile without the cast protecting them, but he was assured that he could do everything he used to.

“I should probably avoid being hit by cars, though, right?” Ryan joked, but it barely got a smile so he gave up. He wasn’t going to see this particular doctor at their show that night.

It took Ryan a while to get used to having two fully working arms again, and the freedom that went with it. He jumped at the opportunity for a long hot shower without the complication of donning a waterproof cover and only being able to wash one-handed, but other habits he’d gotten into, like eating one-handed and sleeping on his left side, took longer to overcome. He was, however, thrown right back into all of the physical games he’d previously been excused from, and with a little too much glee from the other cast members. Ryan had to endure several overly athletic shows before they toned it down and went back to the way things were.

The following weekend they reached Memphis, which prompted renditions of numerous Elvis songs aboard the tour bus. Jeff was in the middle of crooning Love Me Tender to an enamored Chip when they pulled up outside a cluster of large buildings.

“This doesn’t look like a hotel,” Brad commented, peering out of the window.

“That’s because it isn’t,” Drew said, standing. “It’s a hospital.”

Jeff was quick to make a crack, breaking off mid-chorus. “Has Ryan broken something else already?”

“No,” Ryan shot back, “but I think my ears are bleeding.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Okay.” Drew had to raise his voice to regain everyone’s attention. “We’re going to be heading to the hotel later on, but I arranged a visit here first. You’ll know why soon enough.”

Their curiosity piqued, the others dutifully followed him off the bus and into the nearest building.

 

The guided tour around St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital proved to be an eye-opening experience. A non-profit organization specializing in the research and treatment of pediatric cancer and other catastrophic diseases, the hospital believed that every child deserved the right to receive treatment, regardless of their race, religion, or ability to pay for it. As such, they were completely reliant on contributions and donations to cover the two million dollar daily running costs.

Ryan was ready to hand over a substantial amount of money within ten minutes of entering the place. It didn’t feel like a hospital. Everything was welcoming and brightly colored, with murals and cartoons covering every wall and surface. The staff members they came across were equally warm and friendly. And it became clear very quickly that the kids being treated there were in the very best care.

The group dropped in on a few of the patients and met their families, some of whom had travelled from right the way across the states or even from other countries; their stories and boundless positivity were nothing short of inspirational. Then they visited a recreational area and joined in with some fun and games there. Ryan ended up playing table tennis with an eight-year-old boy called Josh, who was currently undergoing his third round of chemotherapy for Hodgkin Lymphoma. Josh had already lost all of his hair, but didn’t seem bothered by it as far as Ryan could tell. In fact he was a real character, constantly laughing and joking—he reminded Ryan a lot of himself at that age, except he was considerably better at table tennis. Ryan was losing his third game when Drew called time.

“Thank god, this kid was wiping the floor with me,” Ryan said, laying his paddle down with a laugh. “Catch you later, champ!”

Josh grinned, returning Ryan’s high-five. “See you, Ryan!”

“I would have taken table tennis over video games,” Greg grumbled as they filed out of the room. “I died so many times I think I might have broken some kind of record.” He shrugged. “The kid thought it was funny, though, so job done I guess.”

“That’s the spirit, buddy.”

“Okay, just one last stop before we go,” Drew said as they were led into a more clinical room with a number of beds set up and several medical staff waiting.

Jeff paused on the threshold. “Er, Drew, I kind of want to hang on to my internal organs, if it’s all the same to you.”

“And you will, Jeffrey, but you _can_ spare some blood.”

“Oh! Okay.”

Chip blanched. “Blood, as in… needles?”

“You’ll be fine, tough guy,” Greg said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt.”

One of the medics approached the group with a smile. “So who’s first?”

Chip pointed. “I think Greg just volunteered.”

 

After going through a brief medical questionnaire each, as well as a few health checks to ascertain that they were able to donate, they were set up on beds to undergo the procedure—all except Brad, who’d confessed to feeling a little under the weather from a lingering virus. Chip, who’d already been cleared to donate, repeatedly shot scowls his way, apparently wishing he’d thought of that idea first.

Having just been directed onto the bed next to Greg, Chip was quick to pounce on his wince as the needle was inserted. “Doesn’t hurt, huh, tough guy?”

“Just a sharp scratch,” the medic beside him said briskly—and a little too cheerfully for Chip’s liking—as she prepared his arm.

Not wanting to watch his own blood being drained, Chip turned his head the other way with the expression of a man about to be beheaded.

Ryan had ended up on a bed opposite and he amused himself with watching the drama across the room as his own blood was drawn. He didn’t notice that Colin had taken the bed next to him until the medic beside him finished the initial process and stepped away.

“Feel like a lab rat yet?” he asked.

“A little,” Colin said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. 

Ryan expected Brad to be hovering nearby, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Where did Brad disappear off to?”

“He offered to help with the refreshments since he couldn’t donate. How are you doing? You never did like needles much.”

“Yeah, well…” Ryan shrugged. “After what we’ve seen today, I don’t really have much to complain about.”

Colin snorted. “Tell that to Chip.”

“Yeah.” Ryan huffed a laugh, looking across to their decidedly pale-faced companion. “But seriously, those kids…” he continued, shaking his head in amazement. “They’re incredible. Battling the disease as well as the terrible side-effects of the treatments, but every single one of them we met had a smile on their face.”

“I know… they could teach us a thing or two.”

“For sure. Adults spend way too much of their lives sweating the small stuff, and for what? None of it really matters. What?” he asked, catching Colin’s smile.

“Nothing! I just didn’t realize how much this place had affected you.”

“It puts things into perspective, that’s all. I think we all need a little perspective now and again.”

Colin’s smile widened. “That we do.”

“Is everyone about ready to head to the hotel,” Drew asked as they were finishing up their refreshments a little while later, the donation part over and done with.

Ryan glanced at Colin, an idea occurring. “Yeah, about that…”

No one needed convincing of its merit. They couldn’t in good conscience spend the next few nights in a luxury hotel when the money could be so much better spent on the hospital and its patients. The tour bus was good enough for them. And once Drew explained their decision to the hotel, the manager agreed to not only wave the customary cancellation fees but also extend an invitation for any families visiting the hospital from out of state to stay in those rooms for free.

 

Everyone went into the show that night on a high—even Chip who, with the needle part over and done with, was happy to have donated—which meant there was more intro banter than usual, and a lot of laughter, before Drew continued his usual opening address to the audience. However, his speech that evening was a little different.

“We like to joke around a lot, and we’re having a lot of fun on this tour, but it’s all to raise money for a serious cause. We were reminded of how important that cause is today when we visited St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital right here in Memphis and got to meet some of the brave kids fighting the toughest battle of their young lives. It was a humbling experience, let me tell you. And they are cared for by an amazingly dedicated group of medical professionals, some of whom are here with us tonight. Can we have a round of applause for these real-life heroes?”

The auditorium was filled with applause for the group of special guests in the front row, with the cast clapping louder than ever. When it finally died down, Drew continued.

“Like St Jude’s, I believe that every child, regardless of their background or financial status, deserves an equal chance of beating cancer with the proper treatment, and that’s why all of the profits from this tour will go to children’s hospitals for pediatric cancer right across the country. Each and every one of you has already donated through your ticket for tonight’s show, but there are also collection boxes at the entrance if you’d like to donate more. I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce tonight that I will personally match the total amount raised from this tour so we can help as many sick children as we can.”

The reaction to his announcement was swift and nothing short of deafening, Ryan applauding heartily along with the rest of the cast. Drew hadn’t said a word of this to them, but then again it shouldn’t have come as a surprise—his generosity was well-known amongst his friends and colleagues. And visiting the hospital had affected all of them. Ryan knew now that even if this tour was his last and he never did improv or saw Colin again after, he was making a real difference to the lives of many young people and their families. And that’s what made every minute of it worthwhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that gay people who are sexually active cannot currently donate blood in the US but, since this is an AU, let’s pretend that they’ve come to their senses and relaxed the rules in this universe. Mainly because I really wanted that scene in there. XD


End file.
